


His Own Personal Batman

by Soquilii9



Category: Leverage
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Justice, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The Leverage premise and characters belong to John Rogers, Chris Downey and TNT.</p><p>Summary: Eliot rescues a child being brutalized by his own father</p><p>I thank Kaneswolf for her help.</p><p>The story has been reformatted; now consists of one chapter. Its original layout was confusing.  Mea culpa.<br/>In order to save the comments (which I treasure) I have added them to the comments section.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Own Personal Batman

  

PORTLAND, OREGON

It's a cool night with a mild breeze wafting up the streets. A rather artsy corner grocery store is open late, the kind which sells high-end and unusual items like those gourmet chefs favor. Large glass windows surrounded by slate blue facade, an 'in' door on one side of a decorative front and an 'out' door on the other. The top two stories are red brick and windows; loft apartments for those lucky enough to be able to take the elevator to get their groceries.

The shop's normal clientele run the gamut of professions from high-end call girl to top executives. The latter of course do not shop; they send their secretaries right after work in case the maid forgot something and an incensed wife has called. The occasional musician, avant-garde artist; those in the legal or medical field enter its doors; anyone who makes enough money to afford the prices within. The store remains open until ten at night in case someone forgot that special bottle of Merlot.

Only two customers tonight, the Asian proprietor notices, a man and a boy are reflected in the many mirrors he has hung at oblique angles throughout the store. For yes, even here, shoplifters ply their trade, unhampered by door scanners. The man is dressed to the nines and holds onto the arm of the boy, who appears to be about eight or nine years old. The proprietor glances only occasionally at the mirrors; this is not a shoplifter, but something he sees affords a second glance. The child is hanging back and the man is jerking him along. The proprietor has seen this before. He shakes his head regretfully. At his age, he can't risk a confrontation.

The proprietor, Mr. Nguyen, has had the store since coming over from Vietnam in 1976. Five years after buying the place with his life savings, he brought his family over. They lived in the back; wife, mother, two young sons who are grown now. His mother died; now his wife has dinner waiting for him when the day is done.

The door jingles pleasantly, thanks to a chime he brought from the old country, and one of his regular customers closes the door behind him.

Mr. Nguyen nods and smiles at the man, for he shops here frequently, buying the only best ingredients. Mr. Nguyen often wonders idly if the man owns a restaurant but logic tells him that is not the case, for the quantity this man buys and the price he pays is not something a restaurateur would do.

The man smiles back in recognition, an open, honest smile. He throws his long hair back, picks up a basket and heads down the first aisle. With nothing else to do at the moment, Mr. Nguyen surreptitiously watches him in the mirrors as he carefully selects from the produce aisle. He is playing a game, trying to guess what his customer will be making from his choices. Garlic, onions, carrots, thyme leaves, fresh mushrooms and parsley give him no clues. The man selects a good cut of beef and a half pound of bacon. From the liquor aisle comes a bottle of cognac and one of red wine. Mr. Nguyen snaps his fingers. It _has_ to be beef bourguignon, one of his favorite American dishes. He'll ask his customer if he's right when he checks out. If he wins the bet against himself, he'll put a dollar into the kitty on the counter.

But his customer does not check out right away.

Something has delayed him.

~~~~~

'Dad, I'm tired,' says the little boy. He makes it a point not to whine because that will only make matters worse. He's simply stating a fact.

His father is careful to keep his voice down. 'We'll get home sooner if you stop dawdling, Jimmy,' he hisses. 'Now _come on!'_ His father yanks him by the elbow. 'Niki wants a few things for a late dinner.'

 _Niki, always Niki!_ Niki, who unceremoniously replaced his mother after she died. Niki, who doesn't really want him around. His father doesn't seem to, either. Jimmy wishes he could have gone to live with his oldest cousin in Oklahoma. He doesn't understand how the custody process works. All he knows is, he's miserable.

'Why can't _she_ pick 'em up? She has Mommie's car.'

The child visibly blanches from the look on his father's face.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, she doesn’t like to drive at night. Here I had to pick you up at school because you missed the bus for the umpteenth time, then go back to the office and finish work on a case. This store is on the way home. Now _shut up_!”

Jimmy sighs. At this point, minding his father will probably get him home and in his own bed quicker than arguing, so he attempts to be helpful.

'Dad, wait, isn't this on Niki's list?'

Jimmy has picked up a bottle of extra virgin olive oil to hand to his father, but being off balance from the iron grip on his elbow, he drops it. Glass and oil burst in all directions, dangerous and slippery. The boy cowers, knowing from experience what's coming.

Jimmy has learned not to cry. Even as the ring on the finger of the hand that has struck him splits the skin on his cheek and makes his eyes water, he wishes he could cry but he does not.

There's never just one blow, even in a public place. Nobody ever interferes so his dad thinks it's ok. Even Jimmy has come to think of it as normal. _His_ normal. He closes his eyes and waits for the next one. _When is it coming?_ He squints one eye open.

His father’s fist is drawn back to strike; he’s not looking at Jimmy, however, but a stranger standing at the end of the aisle - a scruffy man with long hair, wearing a black leather jacket and strange gloves without any fingers in them.. The man's scowling expression is frightening. He initially moves almost in slow motion, first gently setting down his basket of purchases then advancing toward his father. His gloved hands fold into fists. Things speed up. Jimmy retreats swiftly, slipping on the oily floor sprinkled with glass shards, and bumps into Mr. Nguyen, who has come to see what the disturbance is all about.

In only a few seconds his father is sprawled in a puddle of extra virgin olive oil; his five-hundred-dollar suit soaking it up so well Mr. Nguyen doesn’t think he’ll even need a mop, and he’s wriggling uncomfortably on glass shards, unable to rise after a one-two punch followed by an elbow strike, courtesy of the man with the long hair and leather jacket. He soon stops wriggling and falls unconscious. Jimmy is torn between fear and total hero worship; is this Batman without his cape? _His own personal Batman??_

The man throws his long hair back and picks up his basket as if this is an everyday occurrence. He calmly escorts Jimmy and Mr. Nguyen to the front of the store. He has a hurried conversation with Mr. Nguyen, apparently giving him some instructions, then drops to one knee to talk to Jimmy. Mr. Nguyen has meanwhile gone on some mysterious errand.

Jimmy presses one hand to his injured cheek and keeps his face tucked down. He isn’t entirely sure what will happen next or what he should say. The man speaks to him in a gentle manner; the frightening scowl is gone, replaced by a gentle smile. The blue eyes twinkle at him.

'Hey, champ. What's your name?'

'Jimmy.'

“Hi, Jimmy. My name’s Eliot. Mr. Nguyen there tells me this has happened before. Has it?”

Slowly, Jimmy nods, keeping his face hidden.

“Who’s at home now, Jimmy? Mom? Sisters or brothers?”

“Nobody. Just Niki.”

“Niki, she’s your…”

“My dad’s girlfriend.”

“Huh. Okay. Now, I wanna ask you something, Jimmy…” Eliot breaks off as Mr. Nguyen returns with a small first aid kit and a frozen bag of peas. Eliot dabs the blood away, selects a band-aid and gently applies it butterfly-style over the cut to close it. He wraps the frozen peas in the small towel Mr. Nguyen has brought and instructs Jimmy to hold it against his cheek.

“That’ll do until I can get him to a clinic.”

“But Eliot,” says Mr. Nguyen in his thick accent, “no you can do that. You not related to boy - dey not treat him widdout fadder permission -”

“The clinic I’m taking him to will. He’s not going home with that son of a bitch. I’ll take care of it. Trust me.”

Eliot swiftly riffles through the man’s wallet. There are no photos of the boy or anyone else; only cash, credit cards and a driver’s license. Who doesn’t carry pictures of their kids? This’ll be easier than I thought, he mutters to himself as he wipes the wallet for fingerprints and thrusts it, intact, back into the man’s coat pocket. From his own wallet, Eliot extracts a considerable wad of bills and hands it to Mr. Nguyen.

'Use this to get the place cleaned up. The cost of my groceries is in there, too. Call the police and have that bastard picked up. Tell 'em you caught a shoplifter or something. Tell 'em he tried to rob you and you hit him with a mop.'

The old man laughs and courteously bows. “I thank, Eliot. Good friend. Good customer.” As he turns away he thinks of something. “Wait,” he asks, “what if man ask where boy?”

"Ever heard of gaslighting?”

The old man shakes his head in bewilderment.

“What you do is, if anybody asks you about a boy, just say “What boy?” and stick to it. You’re the only witness, Mr. Nguyen. Don’t worry, this guy won’t be waking up for quite a while anyway – when he does, he’ll be in a cell. Let the cops handle the questions.”

The old man grins and nods. Eliot picks up his basket. Unsure of what is taking place, but sensing this man is trying to help him, Jimmy speaks up. “What is it you wanted to ask me, sir?”

Eliot returns his attention to the child. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come home with me. It’ll be ok… but we gotta talk about your family and all kinds of things like that, about getting you back to somewhere safe. You ok with that?”

Jimmy, in the throes of hero worship, smiles up at the man and nods.

~~~~~

Jimmy likes riding in the orange Dodge Challenger; he likes the bucket seats and the console that looks like the cockpit of an airplane. Eliot reminds him to keep the bag on his cheek. When they arrive at the bar pub they take the back stairs to the elevators. The doors open and Jimmy enters the headquarters of _Leverage International._

 _'Wow!'_ he says with a child's enthusiasm, looking around. The gigantic display of computer screens impresses him. 'This is better'n a _bat cave!'_

Eliot sets the basket of groceries down and grins. 'I got a friend you're gonna get along great with, Jimmy. Come sit up here.'

He lifts the child to the bar where the light is brightest and brings out a medical kit. Jimmy eyes it warily.

'I’m a medic, son. That’s almost like a doctor. I’ll try my best not to hurt you but I need to make sure nothing’s broken and this might need a stitch. Okay? Now…I want you to pretend you’re in the bat cave and you’re Batman and Vicki Vale will be in to help you. Can you do that?'

Jimmy nods.

'Hey Hardison! You and Parker come down here!' Eliot shouts.

Eliot very gently palpates the boy's cheek and has him do a range of motion for his jaw. Satisfied that no bones are broken, he prepares a proper ice pack and has Jimmy hold it to the wound. He tosses the now-soggy bag of peas into the trash.

Parker and Hardison come swiftly down the stairs. Their progress is halted by what greets them; they're mystified; it's not often that they find a strange child sitting on their bar.

'Eliot?' says Hardison.

'See, Jimmy, here's Vicki Vale and the butler!'

'Say _what?'_ says Hardison.

 _'Whatever,_ Hardison. Parker, I need your help. This here is Jimmy. I'll tell you all about him later but for now we gotta get this fixed, get him a bath and into bed. We'll put him on the couch for the night.'

'That's cool,' says Parker. A waif herself, she seems to bond immediately with Jimmy. Hardison gives him a welcoming high five. Jimmy revels in feeling safe and secure by three adults he doesn't know very well, but who are making him feel wanted, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

Eliot has prepared a small topical anesthetic and swabs the split cheek to numb it so he can inject the lidocaine with less pain. Jimmy’s father has split his son’s cheek so badly he will need at least three stitches.

'Parker, you're Vicki Vale. Got it? Hold Jimmy's hand. He's Batman and he's been hurt taking out the bad guys. He needs your help. He was just saying how he thought the offices were better than a bat cave, Hardison.'

'Hey, that's _cool,_ man. That is _all right.'_

Parker is holding the child to her while Eliot talks; taking Jimmy's mind off the injections. Jimmy squeezes his eyes shut but bravely endures the sting. It isn't long before two stitches are in the cheek and a band-aid covers the damage.

'Came through it like a champ,' Eliot says. He high-fives Jimmy, who responds to the praise. Whoever these people are, he wants to stay with them forever.

Parker makes a sandwich and pours a glass of milk for Jimmy.

'Now, my man,' says Eliot, 'I guess that was your dad in the store.'

'Yeah.'

'That kind of thing happen a lot?'

'Yeah. Dad, um…he gets mad at me a lot. One time he grabbed my arm and it broke…'

'When was this, Jimmy?' Eliot asks gently.

'Last year. He told Mommie I fell off my bike.' Jimmy took a bite of sandwich while his audience, alarmed, waited in silence. 'It hurt. I yelled. He told me to shut up. Then he put me on the bike and shoved me over. Told me not to tell or…'

Eliot, Parker and Hardison exchange glances. This is taking child abuse to a whole new level. Not only did they have to get Jimmy away from his father, they'd have to see he was prosecuted.

_No problem._

'Where's your mom?' asks Parker.

'She died.'

Hardison asks the next question. 'Ok, so - brothers? Sisters? Who else is in your family?'

Jimmy told them about Niki and about the cousin, the only family he knew of, who lived in Oklahoma.

'No kiddin' man, that's where _I'm_ from,' Eliot exclaims.

For the first time, Jimmy begins to cry. 'He's Mommie's nephew, her sister's son. He's about as old as you. I don't know anybody else except him. I told Dad I wanted to go live with him but…'

'What's his name?'

'Mike Rossler. He lives in Lawton.'

'Think carefully, Jimmy…do you remember Mike ever saying he _wanted_ you to live with him?'

'Uh huh. He _did._ He and Dad even argued about it. Mike said wading through cow manure was better for me than swimming in a sea fulla sharks. What does that mean, anyway?'

'The Heartland…Cousin Mike either has a farm or a ranch, doesn't he, Jimmy?'

'And his dad's a lawyer,' says Hardison knowingly.

Jimmy nods to both of them.

'Hardison, get me a phone number on that guy. But we're gonna wait until morning to call. Jimmy here's about to get his bath and a good night's sleep. Aren'tcha, Jimmy?'

'Don't I have to go back to my dad?'

Eliot takes Jimmy by the shoulders and looks into his eyes. 'Do you want to?' he asks, seriously.

 _'No!_ But…won't they _make_ me go back?'

'Not if I can help it, son.'

Jimmy throws his arms around Eliot’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Eliot looks up at Parker and Hardison sheepishly and pats Jimmy’s back. They exchange a glance, grinning. This job might not pad their coffers but it’s going to give everyone a lot of satisfaction.

~~~~~

Eliot's beef bourguignon will have to wait. He sits at the bar, making notes on a pad; planning. Tomorrow he'll set the lever for Jimmy and call his cousin. Tomorrow he'll provide the child _leverage._ He glances at the couch where, for the first time ever, a child is sleeping under his roof. It's a nice feeling. He's helped kids before, but it was always impersonal…he always handed it off to someone else when the job was done: a cop, the World Health Organization, whatever.

This time he wants to see it through _himself._ Besides, he hasn't been back to Oklahoma in a long time.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**FIRST SEQUEL**

It was Saturday, 8:00 am in Portland Oregon. Jimmy awoke to the familiar aromas of bacon frying and coffee brewing. Half asleep, he turned over on his makeshift bed and bumped his injured cheek against the back of the couch. He winced, not remembering right away why it should be so sore. His hand went to his cheek and felt the bandage. Confusion clouded the little boy's mind until he realized where he was; not home in his own bed, but a visitor… in the Batcave… of his new friend. Not home with Niki and Dad, being yelled at, shoved around and hit, but safe at last! He, yawned, stretched and sat up, looking over the back of the couch into the kitchen. His new friend was at the stove. His long hair was tied back with a red bandanna and he was…cooking?

'Mornin,' champ,' said Eliot Spencer. He wiped his fingers on a dishtowel and threw it over his shoulder. 'Hungry?'

'Sure am, sir.'

'Wash up, right down the hall there, then come and get it. Oh, and keep that bandage dry.'

Eliot set a plate on the bar beside a glass of milk and a smaller one of juice. Tender, buttery scrambled eggs, bacon, a biscuit and jelly awaited the boy. Jimmy climbed up onto the barstool and picked up his fork. The boy ate voraciously. The look on Jimmy's face made Eliot smile.

'This is real good, sir.'

'Glad you like it, Jimmy.' Eliot prepared breakfast plates for Parker and Hardison, who were due to arrive in a few minutes. He placed them in the oven to keep warm.

The boy cleaned his plate before timidly glancing up at Eliot, who was sipping his second cup of coffee, staring off into space. He wasn't sure what next to say, or if he should say anything at all. He didn't have to worry.

'So…Jimmy…what happens now?'

'I dunno, sir.'

'Well, for starters, you can call me Eliot. That ok with you?'

Jimmy nodded happily.

'Then when Hardison gets here maybe we'll call your Cousin Mike.'

'He found him?'

'I'd be willing to bet on it. Hardison always says give him seven numbers and he can find you on Mars.'

'Wow!'

'Let me take a look at that cheek first.'

Eliot daubed on antibiotic and applied a new band-aid over the stitches. By now the cheek and the area under the child's eye was a deep purple and slightly swollen. 'Hurt much?'

'Just a little.'

Eliot shook his head regretfully. 'You might end up with a scar from that.'

'Like yours?' Jimmy touched a tentative finger to a scar that ran down Eliot's cheek to his lip, the souvenir of a long-ago bar fight.

'Yeah, my man, makes us look like tough guys. Here,' said Eliot, taking Jimmy's hand in his. He gently slapped the palm twice and made a fist. 'Now you make a fist. Now punch it.'

Jimmy did as instructed. 'Cool!' he said. It's like our own sign!'

Hardison sauntered in right at that moment. 'Wait…hold on. You teachin' him _our_ thang?'

'Sure, man, makes him one of the team.'

'Hey, howya doin,' Jimmy?' Hardison clapped the boy on the back.

'Great, Mr. Hardison.' Jimmy twirled on the barstool. 'And guess what? We're gonna call Mike!'

Hardison met Eliot's eyes over the boy's head, indicating he needed to talk to Eliot.

'Be back in a minute, Jimmy.' Eliot followed Hardison into the hallway, out of earshot. Judging by the look on his friend's face, he didn't have good news.

'What'd you find out, Hardison?'

'Aw, man, I called the Rossler residence first thing this morning - about ten o'clock their time. Now, I don't know when was the last time that boy spoke to his uncle or cousin or whatever, but apparently it's been a while. Eliot, the man died in a car wreck last year.'

'Dammit… Hardison, are you sure? Who'd you talk to?'

'The wife. She oughta know, right? So, get this: according to her, that Mike guy was all there was. The kid doesn't have another living blood relative on his mother's side anyway. All he has is his dad. I'm gonna do some research on that, but his mom's people? Sayonara. The wife sold the ranch; she's moving back to Houston to live with the guy she was having an affair with while her husband was still alive. She made it real clear - she don't want the kid, she don't need the kid and she don't care about the kid. If what they was plannin' had gone through, you know, to take him, she woulda left. Dead end, Eliot. Seriously. What are you gonna tell him?'

Eliot glanced back at the boy who was still twisting and turning on the barstool. He sighed.

'I dunno, man.'

_FLASHBACK_

The old man began to walk away. Eliot stopped him and handed him a wad of bills.

'Here, use this to get the place cleaned up. The cost of my groceries is in there, too. Call the police and have that bastard picked up. Tell 'em you caught a shoplifter or something. Tell 'em he tried to rob you, and you hit him with a mop.'

The old man shook his head, laughing. 'I thank, Eliot. Good friend. Good customer.' He turned away, thought of something and turned back to Eliot. 'Wait,' he asked, 'what if man ask where boy?'

'Just say _what boy_ , and stick to it. You're the only witness. Don't worry, I'll handle the rest. He won't be waking up for quite a while anyway - not before they throw his ass in a cell.'

The old man grinned and nodded.

Eliot had to buy some time. He'd removed the kid from his pitiful-excuse-for-a-father's clutches but he needed the time it would take to turn some wheels; make plans. Jimmy wasn't going back to that son of a bitch. Not ever. He said as much to Mr. Nguyen*, _sotto voce._

Mr. Nguyen winked at Eliot and asked him to wait. He hurried to the back of the store but almost immediately returned. Holding a clenched fist out palm up, he slowly opened the fingers. Nestled on the palm were several capsules,** each containing a greenish substance. The old man grinned and nodded at Eliot. 'This help you, what you tell me? This help?'

Eliot's face lit up in a sly smile. 'Pretty sure it will. And that gives me an idea. Can you handle that ok?’

‘I use trick in Vietnam…come in useful time to time, prevent VC from blow up my bar. I entertain GIs…VC not like. So I fix, spike drink.’

Eliot looked at the old man with new interest. ‘Ok, here’s what I want you to do…’ He gave Mr. Nguyen instructions and shook his hand. ‘Be careful. Thanks, man. I’ll be by later, probably tomorrow.'

Mr. Nguyen smiled, nodded and waved at the boy and the man as they drove off.

After Eliot and the boy left, Mr. Nguyen fetched a glass of water for his beleaguered customer. He was waking up, groaning. Mr. Nguyen stooped, lifted the man's head, pinched his jaw open, placed two capsules on the back of his tongue and held the water to his lips. The man swallowed. Two more capsules were followed by more water, and yet another two; six in all.

'What the … hell are you giving me, you damn gook?' the man grumbled groggily.

'Tsk, tsk, tsk,' Mr. Nguyen clucked sympathetically. 'Poor man… have terrible headache. This fix right up.'

'What…wh…wait…where's my kid?'

'You no have kid when you come in, sir.'

'What are you, nuts? You saw him…he was with me…'

'Me no see…kid. What you on, sir?'

'What? Wait…what…where's the guy that hit me? What's going on here? Did he kidnap my kid?'

'No one in store but you and me, sir. No one at all.' Mr. Nguyen lowered the man's head to the floor and rose, his knees creaking, and watched the man for a minute. He was conscious but made no effort to rise. His swiftly dilating eyes rolled in their sockets, unfocused.

'Me and my friend…we fix you right up. You not beat boy again,' he whispered softly.

Following Eliot’s instructions, Mr. Nguyen rifled the man's pockets and went through his wallet. There were no photos of the boy but plenty of other documentation. Using a small scanner in the back office, he copied everything in the wallet, returning it to the man's pocket. He placed the copies in an envelope and stashed it in his safe.

He then took his broom and swept some of his merchandise off the shelves, allowing the items to shatter on the tile floor. He'd be out a little money and making work for himself, but his friend was more than worthy of his help.

 _A/N:_  
*The Vietnamese name Nguyen is pronounced 'Wen.'  
**Kratom, a drug sold as raw or crushed leaves that can be smoked or steeped for tea or consumed in gel-caps, currently uncontrolled in the states. Users describe the effects of ingestion as similar to a high from heroin.

~~~~~ 

'You say he broke in?'

'Door open. I here alone. He come in like wild man, smashing store, wanting something, I not know what. He dress nice, you know? Not look like American criminal so I not expect that.'

'Well, what was it he wanted?'

'He not making sense. I not understand what he want. I just saying we no have, hope he go ‘way, and he go crazy. I lose plenty, look on floor!' Mr. Nguyen gestured to the items scattered up and down the aisles, dented cans and broken glass containers.

'Did he come at you?'

Mr. Nguyen looked confused.

'What I mean is, did he hit you?' the officer clarified.

'He come to me like he want to hit and I afraid, so I take mop and hit first.' The old man shrugged. 'Hit stomach and face…hard…he go down. I old man…afraid. I go jail?'

'No, sir, you apparently acted in self-defense. I - ' The policeman's radio crackled.

'Bill, we gotta get this guy to the ER before we take him downtown. He's stoned out of his mind and he's peeing all over the back seat of the car!'

'10-4,' the officer responded. 'Look, Mr. Nguyen, I wouldn't worry, I have your statement. We'll contact you if we need anything else. All right?'

'Thank, officer. Thank for help.'

The policeman touched his finger to his cap and hurried out the door. Mr. Nguyen grinned, watching the flashing lights of the police car fade into the distance.

'You not beat boy again,' he repeated.

~~~~~ 

Eliot left Hardison standing in the hallway and returned to the kitchen. He poured a fresh cup of coffee, watching Jimmy out of the corner of his eye, still having fun with the barstool.

'When can we call Mike, Eliot?'

'Tell you what, Jimbo… it's Saturday, right? What do you usually do on Saturdays?'

'Not…not much, just homework and watch cartoons. I have to stay pretty quiet on weekends, 'cause…'

'Hey…what say you and me get out of here and go riding around. Have some fun. Besides, I gotta run an errand.'

Jimmy's face lit up and as Eliot had intended, his attention was diverted for the time being. He'd have to tell Jimmy about his cousin…later…when the time was right.

‘We’re not goin' in, are we, Eliot?’ Jimmy asked nervously as Eliot pulled into the parking space in front of the store.

‘No. Mr. Nguyen’s gonna bring what I need out to us. Just take a minute.’ Eliot honked the horn. ‘Not about to leave you in the car by yourself to go get it.’

‘What’s he gonna bring you?’

‘Just some papers I forgot the other night. Don’t worry. This won’t take long. Listen, Jimmy, talking clothes now, do you know what size you wear?’

Jimmy didn’t get a chance to reply. Mr. Nguyen emerged from his store, cheerfully waving. Eliot stepped from the car to have a whispered conference with him. Jimmy saw the old man give Eliot a white envelope. Eliot glanced inside it and nodded, shaking the old man’s hand and clapping him on the back. Nothing seemed scary and he didn’t have to go back in the store where he last saw his father. He placed a hand over his injured cheek and tried not to let the tears fall. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He hadn’t cried while Dad was hitting him but it seemed now that he was safe, he couldn't stop the tears. He had to stay brave for Eliot. He swiped at his eyes and sniffed as Eliot got back in the car. Mr. Nguyen smiled and waved at the boy through the windshield. Jimmy waved back.

Eliot looked at him curiously.

‘You ok, man?’

Jimmy nodded. ‘I know my size,’ he said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. If Eliot marked it, he said nothing.

‘Then what say we go shoppin’ – you in?’

‘I’m in!’ Jimmy crowed.

'Fasten your seatbelt, man, and hang on.'

Jimmy complied.

'Ready?'

Jimmy nodded. What was his hero up to?

Smiling innocently, Eliot carefully backed the car. He turned the wheel. Suddenly he floored it, laying a short line of rubber on the parking lot. There went a month's tire wear but it was worth it if he got a laugh out of Jimmy.

~~~~~

Decked out in new clothes very similar to Eliot’s, Jimmy was thrilled to look like his new hero. Back in the car, Eliot drove around town for a while, just chatting with the boy. They stopped for ice cream and picked up a couple of action figures at a toy store: a Batman, of course, and surprisingly, a Data, a Worf and a Romulan from Star Trek, plus a brand-new backpack to put them in.

‘Gee, thanks, Eliot!’ the boy enthused.

‘Hardison’s gonna wanna play with those. You wanna keep ‘em - hide ‘em,’ Eliot advised with a straight face. ‘Hungry? Let’s get burgers.’

In talking with the boy, Eliot learned that Jimmy loved baseball but had never been to a game, didn't like zoos (It's like they're in prison, Eliot), wasn’t all that interested in museums - but he loved the outdoors. He had been allowed to spend two weeks last year at a summer camp; swimming, riding horses and sleeping in the woods.

'Scout camp?'

'No, sir, just a camp. Dad met Niki that summer and I think they just wanted me out of the way. But I had fun.'

'Y'know, I know a place sort of like that. We can’t hunt or ride but we can hike. That ok?'

'You bet!'

'Let's pick up some energy bars and a couple of waters, then. And a camera if you want one.'

After trekking through half a mile of trail deep within the forest, Jimmy had shot nearly the entire roll of film in his camera, somehow capturing his hero in almost every shot. There were two pictures left on the roll when they reached the bridge at Latourell Falls; Jimmy insisted on taking a picture of Eliot against the thundering cascade. Eliot returned the favor, snapping a photo of Jimmy against the backdrop of tumbling water, after which they continued on down the trail. As the roar of the waterfall faded and the quiet of the forest allowed normal conversation, Eliot spied a low outcropping of flat-topped basalt and took a seat. 'Let's take a breather, huh?'

He broke out the snacks and they relaxed a while, munching and listening to the soft, subtle sounds of the forest. No hikers passed by and they had the area to themselves.  
This was as good a place as any.

'Say, man, we've had us some fun here, but now we gotta have a talk. I guess you know that.'

'Yes, sir.'

'This is gonna be hard to say to a kid your age. What are you, nine?'

Jimmy spoke around a mouthful of granola bar. 'I just turned eight. Last month.'

 _Damn._ Eliot took a sip of water. His mouth was dry.

'Well, Jimmy, it's like this… it's all about you. It's about what we need to do to change your situation, to keep you safe. It's about your family, you know, that 's real important now. From what I saw last night…well, I don't think being with your dad is a good idea, do you?'

Jimmy shook his head vigorously.

'Ok so let’s look ahead a few years. You're eight, so you need at least another ten years to grow up and get an education. After that you can be on your own…get a job, maybe have a family…but I can't see sending you back to your dad for the next ten years. I don't wanna do that, so we-.'

'I don't wanna go back. Not ever!'

'Well, see, that’s where we come in. Hardison and Parker and me, we try to help people. But in trying to help you, we've hit a snag.' Eliot looked at the boy with compassion in his eyes. 'Hardison found your cousin. But it's bad news, son.'

The child's face crumbled. 'They don't want me! I don't wanna hear it! I don't wanna hear it!' Jimmy took off down the trail, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He rounded a bend in the path, vanishing behind a veil of thickly overgrown spring foliage.

'Jimmy!' yelled Eliot, taking off after him. At the bend, Eliot stopped, listening. He couldn't hear the sound of running feet. Jimmy had to be nearby. He swiveled, keen eyes probing the thick undergrowth. The shoulder of the trail fell away on the right, dipping into a small hollow about five feet down. 'Jimmy, c'mon, man. C'mon, you gotta trust me here.'

Eliot waited. After some minutes, ten feet off the path down in the hollow, Jimmy stepped from behind a large tree, wiping tear-stained smudges across his face. He looked up at Eliot.

Eliot remained where he was, crouching down on the graveled walk. 'Jimmy.' A slight echo distorted his voice. 'Didn't you tell me your cousin Mike wanted you to go live with him?’

Jimmy nodded.

‘Well, that would have been great. But son, sometimes things happen that we can't control.' Eliot straightened, looking down at the boy. 'Now, I'm going back to where our stuff is. If you want to know what happened, and what we can do about it, come on back and I'll tell you. If not…well, I'll respect your decision to do what you think best.'

Eliot walked down the path without a backward glance.

A few minutes later, Jimmy timidly approached Eliot, who was munching a granola bar. He didn't immediately look at the boy, which prompted him to ask, 'Eliot? I'm sorry. What…what happened?'

'Bad news, like I said. You ready to hear it?'

Jimmy nodded.

'Have a seat.' Eliot passed him a bottle of water. Jimmy slid onto the basalt bench, nervously kicking his feet against its ancient, lichen-covered side.

Eliot turned to face the boy. 'There was a car accident, Jimmy. Your cousin Mike was driving. I'm sorry, man, but… he died. See, it’s not that he wanted to leave you; it was something he couldn't help. And I'm sorry nobody bothered to tell you; they should have.’

‘When?’ Jimmy asked, querulously.

‘Last year…probably not long after your mom…which may be why they didn’t tell you.'  
Jimmy folded himself up, struggling to keep from crying.

Damn, he hated to hurt this kid. He'd been through enough. Sitting there hunched over with his arms wrapped around his legs and his head between his knees…split cheek…bruises from days; weeks ago dotting his arms and legs…

After a moment, Eliot placed a gentle hand on the boy’s back. Jimmy leaned toward him, sobbing. Eliot quietly held the boy until the shadows began to lengthen, then they hiked back to the car. Eliot walked in silence, thinking. Jimmy kept pace beside him, feeling safe and secure, trusting the only person who stood between him and fear and uncertainty - his very own Batman.

~~~~~

Jimmy had been asleep for an hour, worn out, fed, bathed and bedded down on Eliot's office couch with the door closed while the Leverage team brainstormed in the kitchen, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer and soda.

'What are we gonna do about this kid, Eliot?' Hardison asked seriously.

'What did you find out about his family?'

'Well…just that his pitiful excuse for a dad is it. That's all the kid's got left. Nobody on mom's side, nobody else on dad's. That cousin was his last hope. I'm still doing some checking on the dad, but nothing's coming up…’ Hardison shook his head regretfully. ‘Damn, man, It looks like we might have to somehow get him into…'

Parker had been guzzling a coke. She wiped her chin and slammed the can down on the table, interrupting Hardison's unspoken thought more forcefully than either he or Eliot thought possible. Staring at both of them, she emphatically stated, 'Let me tell both of you something. Jimmy is _not_ going into the system!'

The two men exchanged glances, Hardison quizzically and Eliot with an understanding nod, recalling a different time, a different Parker: _This is what we're supposed to do! We're supposed to get him back to his wife! Nate would do it, Sophie would do it, Hardison would do it! They would do the right thing! I want to do the right thing!_

'But… Parker…' Hardison began. He couldn't see any other possible alternative but he should have known better than to argue. Parker objected again, loudly, strenuously.

'He's NOT! We have to do right by him!'

'Keep your voice, down, Parker, you're gonna wake him up,' Eliot cautioned.

'I don't care what or how we do it, he's not,' she reiterated, whispering. 'I'll adopt him myself before I let that happen!'

Eliot looked at Parker sharply but said nothing.

'Ok, Parker,' Hardison said soothingly. 'That means we need a plan. Anybody got any ideas?' He looked back and forth from one partner to the other, first Eliot, then Parker, then back to Eliot.

Parker again spoke up. ‘Let’s examine the loose ends. The dad’s in jail, for the wrong reason, but at least he’s in there. We gotta get around him. The stepmom is iffy; we gotta figure out what to do about her. Then there’s the school situation. In the meantime Jimmy stays with us for protection. Or he can stay with me and play in my warehouse. I’ll let him have a Baby Feels-a-Lot or something.’

Hardison’s eyes bugged at the mention of the warehouse. ‘Naw. You did _not_ just say that. Parker…that kid’s gonna need therapy after five minutes in that funhouse o'yours…and as for letting him play with a doll…that doll…’ He looked at her, shaking his head.

‘Kid’s not a wuss like you are, Hardison. Big baby.’

Hardison opened his mouth to protest but Eliot broke in. ‘Hey… this ain’t gettin’ us anywhere. Parker’s right.’ Eliot dug in his pocket and brought out the envelope Mr. Nguyen had given him. He tossed it to his friend. ‘There you go, Hardison – a little something to help with those loose ends. See what you can do with that.’

Hardison riffled through the contents, elated. ‘Driver's license…business cards…man's a damned criminal defense lawyer. Shoulda known. High-end credit cards…social security number? Dang! How did you get all this?’

‘Never mind. Get on it. Dig me some dirt.’

‘Hey, man, you got it,’ Hardison beamed. ‘With a steam shovel.’

'Wait a minute, guys,' Parker interjected before Hardison got up to take the white envelope to his computer. 'What do we do about school? That's coming up pretty soon. Like day after tomorrow.'

'He can't go back to school,' said Eliot. 'Not yet.'

'Why not?'

'Well, think about it, Parker. We send him back bruised and swollen like he is now, with a bandage on his face. Child Protective Services would be all over it. They track his dad. Not good for Jimmy; not good for us.'

'So we call the school Monday, get him excused or something,' Parker suggested.  
'OR…' Hardison's eyes lit up. He grinned suddenly, dancing in his chair with glee.

'Something you want to share with the class, Hardison?'

'Ya'll let me work my magic here. We gon' iron out that little problem right now.'

'Just make sure whatever's cooking in that brain of yours works!'

'Eliot, long as we been workin' together, you doubtin' me now…? That cuts me deep. _Deep_ , man.'  Hardison redirected his focus toward his computer.

Eliot, ignoring Hardison's histrionics, caught Parker's eye and motioned her to join him in the kitchen.

She perched on a barstool. 'What?' she asked.

'Were you serious, what you just said in there?'

'About what?'

'You said you wanted to adopt Jimmy. Or were you just blowing off steam?'

'I don't blow off steam. I could make it happen.'

'But the question is, Parker, should you?'

She frowned at him, not understanding.

'Look, I know you want what's best for this boy, we all do. But hold on just a minute. I want you to stop and think about this. Really think about it.'

'What's there to think about,' she said, petulantly.

'Plenty. Parker, you're an amazing woman. You've done some amazing things. But this job…it's not right for you.'

'Why? There are plenty of single parents out there!' she protested, completely missing the point.

Eliot folded his arms. Parker was thinking with her heart. Didn't she realize what would ensue? Once she stepped onto the grid as a prospective adoptive parent or even a foster, she’d be ensnared. She'd do time. In all likelihood, so would he and Hardison.

'Seriously? OK, Parker, let's play a game of what if. Say this situation is resolved and you actually get custody. You with me? OK, where would you live?'

'I have several places where I live. You know that.'

'What school district are they in? Do you know? Can you get him up in the morning, take him to T-Ball practice in the evening and work the team on a case in Serbia? No. You'd be off the team.'

Parker cocked her head at him. 'But--'

Eliot cut her off. 'Through this adoption you've connected yourself to the world, Parker. You're plugged in; that plugs us in. Leverage Inc. is up in smoke 'cause Hardison ain't gonna like that light shinin' on you and neither will I. I go back to retrievals. So maybe you go out on your own. If you can avoid the grid and stay out of jail, think about this: Jimmy's just eight, still in elementary. That's an impressionable age. You gonna help him with his homework or teach him to pick locks? The question becomes, are you the best choice for him?'

The adamant look on Parker's face broke and a myriad of expressions crossed her features. Eliot read them all like a book.

'You see, it's not so easy, is it? You got a big heart, Parker. Sure, you love this kid. You want what's best for him but that's not you. If it makes you feel any better, it ain't Hardison and it damned sure ain't me, either. Now, he's taken to us because we've rescued him, but he needs more stability than any of the three of us can give him.'

Tears stood in Parker's eyes. She refused to allow them to fall. Parker wanted to continue the argument, but Eliot could see she was listening to him.

'Jimmy's our client, Parker. Let's work the case. I promise you, we don't let this kid down.'

~~~~~

In the upscale Harrison Tower apartment she shared with her boyfriend and his son, Niki Johns restlessly paced the living room floor, a cigarette in one hand and a stiff drink in the other. The incomplete makings of a late dinner littered the kitchen counter; awaiting ingredients that Hugh was supposed to have brought home hours ago. She had already turned off the boiling water for the spaghetti and thrown the unopened box back in the cupboard. The meal was ruined before it was even begun. Where in hell was he?

A few broccoli florets dipped in salad dressing and a slice of garlic bread had sufficed for dinner when she couldn't wait any longer. Dessert was a vodka on the rocks. Then another. And another. Surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, she mixed it with the air as she paced.

Maybe, if she was lucky and they still had such things, he was dropping that damned kid off at an orphanage…fine, but anything else was inexcusable. First the school had called, then he said he had to pick the kid up but he’d get the stuff she needed for the late, romantic dinner she had planned for their first anniversary. How long did that take, anyway?! That was three hours ago, nearly four. Calls to his cell phone had gone straight to voice mail.

Maybe the kid ran off or something…he'd done it before…and Hugh's tracking him down…but not to at least call… Niki stopped her angry reverie long enough to replenish her drink. Again.

The phone rang.  _Finally!_

Niki set the glass down and snatched the phone from its base.

‘Hello, Mrs. Hartman?’

It wasn't him.

Taken aback, Niki said, ‘Who is this?’

‘Is this Mrs. Hugh Hartman?’

‘Uh, no, I’m, uh, I'm Niki Johns.’

‘Jones?’

‘JOHNS. Not Jones, Johns. Hugh and me, we live together. Who in hell is this?!’

‘My apologies, Miss Jones, I'm calling to inform you that your husb- that is, Mr. Hartman - is in police custody; he’s currently under observation here at Providence Portland Medical Center.’

Niki shook her head in drunken frustration. ‘I-I don’t understand what you're telling me…which is it…I mean, is he in jail or is he at the hospital?'

‘Well, technically, he’s in jail AT the hospital.’

‘What? Is he all right? Was he in a wreck or something?’

‘No, Ma’am, he’s been arrested on multiple charges.'

'Charges? You mean he's been charged with a crime? What…can't you tell me more about it?'

'Mr. Hartman is being held on drug charges, third degree criminal mischief, property damage, and assault.'

'What?! Are you sure it's him?'

The clerk confirmed. 'I suggest you come to the hospital and speak to the officer who brought him in. Just go to the Emergency Room. Providence Portland Medical Center. I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.’

'I--wait--!'

The line went dead.

Niki’s breath left her lungs. She stood staring at the receiver for several minutes before she replaced it on the charger. Shakily, she made her way to the couch and reached for her drink. This was an unexpected turn of events. Drug charges? Criminal mischief? The man was a lawyer, for crissake!

Her hands shook as she lit another cigarette and took a long drag. Resuming her pacing, she tried to process what she had just heard.

~~~~~

_FLASHBACK_

Niki met Hugh Hartman at a party given by his law firm barely a year ago. She arrived with one of the firm's clients as her date. Before they hit the bar, they stopped by the hors d'oeuvres table where Hugh introduced himself. As the evening wore on, it seemed as if every time she glanced his way, he was watching her. Somehow before the night ended, she and Hugh had gotten very cozy and her date left the party in disgust.  
They dated exclusively for several weeks. Niki knew a good thing when she saw it; a very secure future could be hers if she could snare this lawyer. She played her hand carefully; it wasn't long before she was sharing Hugh's new apartment. As time went on she grew accustomed to the lifestyle; she liked the money, the clothes and jewelry. That kid of his was a nuisance but she found herself tolerating him in order to maintain the relationship. She hated to see the way Hugh treated his own son but she wasn't about to interfere.

~~~~~

That kid…wait, they didn’t mention the kid. What went with the kid? Hell, who cares? Wasn't her kid. The question was, what the hell had Hugh had gotten himself into? What was it going to do to her?!

Something like this certainly didn't sound like him. Why would he risk his career? He could be a royal bastard at times but nothing like this had ever happened. Damn sure wasn't anything she wanted to get involved in, either. If Hugh suddenly decided to step in it she didn't want any of it smeared on her.

Wait. She wasn’t married to the man, after all. She was a live-in. She could just…walk away. Couldn't she? Her name wasn't on anything yet, not the lease, not the insurance and certainly not his will. He had no legal claim on her whatsoever. Those things had been her ultimate goal but now she was glad she hadn't pushed it.

It would be hard - leaving everything behind - that fine car and these fancy digs, the clothes and jewelry he'd bought her - but was any of it worth staying for with a mess like this hanging over her head? She'd moved in on this guy; she could find another one. One without so much baggage. Certainly one without a kid. She wouldn't be caught dead making that mistake again.

It was time for a fresh start. It wasn't like she hadn't done this before; shacked up then lit out when the going got rough. She had plenty of identities to hide behind, too. He wouldn't be able to find her nor would anyone else.  
How much time did she have before the authorities were banging on the door? Best go now.

Goaded by fear, Niki quickly swept the place for any sign she had ever been there. She went through her closets, packed as much as she could into a rolling bag, suitcase and a carry-on and stuffed the rest of her clothes, shoes and other belongings including the few pictures that existed, into the garbage chute. This building, high-end though it was, had been built in the days of incinerators, and still operated one of the last of its kind in the city, set to a weekly schedule to reduce emissions. She was in luck; today was a scheduled burn.

She packed her valuables and jewelry, stuffed all the cash she could find into her purse and hailed a cab to the airport. She’d take any flight available, anywhere, just as long as it was away from here. She didn’t create this mess and damned if she was going to clean it up. Screw Hugh.

She walked out of the house without a backward glance.

~~~~~ 

The agitated man in an orange jumpsuit slammed his shackled hands down on the table. Two detectives hovered; Lt. Bill Leavins sat across from him while Sgt. Frank Kramer menacingly circled the room.

'Look, I've been over this with you a hundred times. You don't seem to understand. When I went into that store Friday night my eight-year-old son was with me. I was shopping for dinner. I don't know what happened after that; I don't remember anything! All I know is I woke up in the drunk tank, sick as a dog, sore as hell, and my boy was missing.' Raising both cuffed hands, the man put the heel of one against his swollen jaw.

'The store owner says there was no child with you. Didn't sound like you were shopping according to his statement. You attacked an elderly man; tore up his store - he fought back,' Leavins stated.

'Who you gonna believe, a lawyer or a damn gook?!'

'The damn gook,' the detective said, with a straight face. 'I know him. He's a well-respected member of the community.'

Hugh Hartman shook his head in frustration.

'One witness, Hartman.' said Kramer. 'That's all you got, and a hostile one at that. Now, you say you have an eight-year-old son. Fine. So where is he?'

'I can remember…yes, I remember picking him up from Richmond Elementary Friday. He missed the bus. Hey, the school! Did you call the school?!'

'Yeah, and this is where it gets weird. Your son's teachers and a few of the kids remember a little delicate fellow, real quiet, who came to school all bruised up half the time. Sound familiar?'

Hartman said nothing.

'Would that be your son, or not? James Powell Hartman - right?' Kramer barked.

'Yeah, that's him,' Hartman conceded, reluctantly.

'So tell me this, Hartman, why is there no record of Jimmy ever attending Richmond or any other school? Not in just this district, either. Statewide.'

'That's impossible. He's been at Richmond since Pre-K.'

'So you say. Weird, isn't it?'

'Look, I don't understand what's going on here…wait…Niki, my girlfriend…maybe she has Jimmy, although I don't know how, he was with me Friday night. But maybe she picked him up. Call my home.'

'This is the woman you said you live with, correct? The hospital verified that they called her in the early hours of Saturday, at your home.'

'OK, so?'

'We checked it out. Nobody was there. Looked like the place had been stripped. Your girlfriend apparently skipped out on you. We did find evidence that a child had been living on the premises…a small room off the hall; looked like a walk-in closet. No windows. No TV, not even a radio. There were exactly two shirts, some underwear and one pair of jeans in paper bags. A couple of toys. Not much stuff for this son you seem so worried about.'

'I am worried! I don't know where he is any more than you do! Did you call the hospitals?'

'Yep, and that's not all. We did some checking into your records. According to your insurance claims, the boy has been in and out of the ER something like six times this year.' Leavins flipped to a page in his clipboard and enumerated: 'Dislocated shoulder. Concussion. Broken arm. Want to tell us what that's all about?'

'What can I say, the kid's a klutz. I gave him a bike and all he did was fall off it time and again so I threw it away.'

The two officers exchanged a glance. How many times had they heard that lame excuse?

'Look, if you can just find Niki -'

'We're trying to track her down, but meanwhile it's not looking good for you. Your son is missing and there's clear evidence of child abuse. So…where'd you hide his body?'

'NO! No! I never -'

Another detective tapped, then cracked the door. 'Lieutenant?'

'Yeah. Frank, stay with him. Excuse me, I'll be right back.' Leavins stepped into the hallway. 'Look, if this doesn't concern this case, it can wait. I'm trying to get some answers here.'

'Might have just what you need, Lieutenant. We got intel off Stingray.' The detective handed Leavins a short report. 'You need to see this.'

'All right. Tell Bill to escort our guest back to his cell. This looks like it'll take a while.'

'It will.'

Detective Leavins carried a cup of coffee into a darkened room and took a seat in front of a large, high-definition video display Alec Hardison would have drooled over. The film began playing.

'What am I looking at?'

'Sir, this is footage from a security camera in the Hartman home - not the apartment that was searched, the original family home. This is at least a year old. It goes on for a while, just mundane happenings. At the time, Hartman claimed his groundskeeper - the guy who mowed his lawn and clipped his hedges - killed his wife. Said she had a habit of inviting him in for a cold drink. Sounds kindhearted, if you ask me. Says he came home and found her, beaten and stabbed to death.'

'Sexual assault?'

'Nope, not in this case.'

'According to the court transcript, Hartman said the video wasn't working. So where did this come from?'

'Damned if I know - but look, it's her, the wife. And there's the guy; the gardener.'

'What's his name?'

'I pulled the records. Jack Smith. He's a brain-injured Vietnam vet. This was the only kind of work he was capable of doing. He was arrested for the murder. Hartman was the key witness at his trial.'

'What did Smith get?'

'Well, in his condition…they actually found him innocent. He could barely comprehend anything or make sense when he talked. They sent him to a mental hospital in Rusk, Texas. He's still there. He does gardening and takes care of the grounds. I understand he's doing quite well, considering. Ironically, it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Wait, here it is. Watch closely.'

The detective zoomed the image. 'See, there's the wife, taking him a glass of iced tea. Looks to be a pretty hot day. He waves thanks at her - see the gloves he's wearing? - and there he goes, back to mowing. He rounds the house going toward the rear of the house. Now watch.'

Lt. Bill Leavins sipped coffee, keeping his eyes on the soundless, slightly jerky film. A woman in a blouse and slacks was preparing lunch, moving about the kitchen. A few minutes later a man clearly identifiable as Hugh Hartman came into view, gesturing wildly, obviously berating the woman. She began backing up, meekly nodding. Although her manner was passive, she apparently said something that set Hartman off. He began slapping her.

The woman put her hands over her face to ward off the blows and retreated behind the kitchen island on which rested a block of knives. Hartman followed her, now punching her with his fists. Apparently pushed to her limit, the woman dared to strike back. Hartman swiftly withdrew a large knife from the block and stabbed her in the chest. As she crumpled to the floor he stared the spatter on his shirt and at the knife. He hurried to the sink to scrub his fingerprints from it.

Hartman carefully removed his shirt and wiped down all surfaces. Using a paper towel, he gripped the knife and plunged it into the dead woman's chest. Lt. Leavins watched in amazement as Hartman actually looked in the direction of the camera.

'Jeez, you can see the wheels turning,' he commented.

'Yes, sir. He thinks he's beyond the law.'

The perpetrator could be seen stuffing his shoes, towels and other items into a trash bag which he carried from the room.

Some minutes passed. The dark stain beneath Mrs. Hartman's body slowly expanded. Hartman, now dressed in a suit, reappeared in a corner of the video. He left by the same door used by the gardener, pushing it open with his elbow. Through the kitchen window, the camera captured Hartman getting into his car and backing out of the driveway.

'Smith had gloves on. Hartman left no fingerprint evidence, no DNA anywhere. It's a case of your word against mine.'

'Right. If the woman screamed at all, Smith couldn't hear a thing over the mower.  According to the court transcript, Hartman said that when he got home, Smith was mowing the back yard like nothing had happened. He went in, found his wife's body, went back out and got Smith and dragged him into the house to show him what he'd done. The poor guy couldn't remember what he'd done or if he'd done anything at all. When you have PTSD and a brain injury you can be convinced of anything. Smith thought he was guilty; he confessed to everything. If you talked to him today he probably wouldn't even remember working for Hartman. All he knows or cares about is, he has three hots and a cot and enjoys the work he's doing.'

'No other witnesses?'

'Nope - the house sat on a pretty big lot and if any of the neighbors were home, they didn't see or hear a thing. Nobody knew what happened; like I said, it was Smith's word against Hartman. Hartman scrubbed the surveillance tape and said it wasn't working that day. Sure enough, all they got was a blank tape.'

'Hartman had an account with Your Home Security which stored his digital data. How in hell could he erase it?'

'Still working on that one, Lieutenant. Hartman's pretty slick.'

'So where'd this backup come from?'

'You got me, sir. It came through Hartman's phone to Stingray. Still, it's strong evidence - enough for the case to be reopened, wouldn't you say?'

'There's more to it than that. What this is telling me, gentlemen, is that if he can kill his wife, he can kill his son.'

'Unless we can find the child's body, that charge won't hold up.'

'No, but we have clear evidence of the wife's murder. That'll get him incarcerated…and we'll keep looking for the boy.'

~~~~~ 

On the other side of town, Alec Hardison leaned back in his chair, watching the same video the detectives were watching and listening to their comments.

'Aw yeah,' he said to himself. 'Lookee what I found. You claimed the vid wasn't workin' that day, huh? Guess what I found in yo' wallet? Yo' cell phone number, YHS card, ever-thang but yo' damned shoe size. I hack YHS's secure server,' Hardison made quotes with his fingers, 'gotta wonder why they didn't subpoena that, by the way…ping yo' phone and send the backup through it to law enforcement. And there ain't no James Powell Hartman. Not no more, so don't be thinkin' you can find him. Jimmy Parker Hardison is safe and sound. All we gotta do now is steal him a family.'

Hardison danced in his chair. 'Age of the geek, baby. Stay strong. Do Not Pass Go, Lose Yo' License, Go Directly to Jail. Aw yeah!'

~~~~~ 

Jimmy stood to the side, face alight with an enormous grin, heart full of glee, watching his guardians argue good-naturedly amongst themselves. They were actually fighting over him! His Batman looked fierce talking to Mr. Hardison, but Jimmy had known him long enough to tell whether he was really angry or just faking it. He and Mr. Hardison did that all the time. And Miss Parker was so funny! She kept poking and prodding Batman until he looked like he was ready to pounce on her, but he never did. It was all just for show and so funny!

Batman insisted it was his turn for Jimmy to stay at his place. Mr. Hardison was complaining that he lost his last turn to take Jimmy to the park because Miss Parker had watched over him for two days, one when she took him to the movies and a carnival the next. The way Batman said the 'D' Word at Mr. Hardison was funny, too! When Dad and Niki used bad words it had scared him. He was happy every day that he didn't have to live there anymore. He hoped he never had to go back.

From long habit, Jimmy hunched his shoulders and clapped his hands over his mouth as he giggled. Whenever he laughed or made noise at home, his father had always punched him. Niki had never hit him but the scowl on her face was almost as effective. He had feared them both. As time went on he laughed less and less, not that there was much to laugh about, and he became quieter as a means of self-defense.

Here, it was different, although it was hard to break the old habits. The adults encouraged him to speak up, talked to him, listened to him, actually played with him, made sure he ate and washed, brushed his teeth and tutored him so he wouldn't be too behind in school when they finally found him a new family, as they kept telling him. Jimmy didn't like to hear about that last part. To him, these three were family; he didn't want another one. He wanted to stay with them forever and ever. They didn't make him stay in a closet but took him nearly everywhere they went, as long as he agreed to wear a cap and sunglasses. That was ok.

He’d been shopping and to more museums, kid-friendly movies, carnivals and parks than he even knew existed. And that was just with Miss Parker!

From her he learned weights, measures and the basic metric system and she tutored him in math, which he liked. He liked having breakfast with her. She liked the same kind of cereal he did.

When Parker was at work or doing whatever it was she did, Hardison took over, teaching him gaming and basic computer stuff and renting movies he had always wanted to see. He even played with Jimmy’s action figures, pitting his own Green Lantern against Jimmy’s Batman and Worf. There was a game called Video Fishing he didn't like as much as some of the others, but he played it just to please Hardison.

Jimmy always thought of Eliot as his very own Batman, but he never called him that. His favorite comic book hero had always been the black, caped crusader, and in his childish imagination he saw Eliot in this role, from the very first night he came stalking up the aisle in that store to rescue him forever from the misery he lived in. Eliot was his favorite.

He gave Jimmy lessons in basic self-defense. He took him fishing - real fishing, where he could actually bait his own hook and catch something Eliot could cook for dinner. Jimmy would prepare a simple salad under Eliot's tutelage, set the table and butter the bread. Eliot also started him out on weight training and taught him the value of good nutrition and keeping in shape.

Jimmy loved being with each of them in turn. They were all so different; they knew so many different things! Miss Parker and Mr. Hardison were two different colors, but they lived together so peacefully - not like Dad and Niki, who argued frequently and took it out on him. Eliot was fun even when he was serious. And all of them, all along, were setting examples and teaching him things. Not just math or science or computers or wrestling - they were taking the time to show him how to be, what he should do. No one had ever taken that kind of interest in him.

Jimmy remembered the time Miss Parker saw a boy about his age stealing an apple from a street vendor. Jimmy watched in awe as she ran the boy down and marched him by the collar back to the vendor and made him pay up. Mr. Hardison wouldn't let him take shortcuts on any of the computer games they played together. And as for his Batman…even if he was only eight years old, he said, it was never too early to learn how to be a gentleman. A man could be tough as nails but if he didn't know how to treat a lady, he wasn't a man.

In the three or four weeks he had spent with his guardians, Jimmy's cheek healed; his bruises faded and his frail body filled out and grew stronger. He was happy for the first time in his short life. He relished the atmosphere of love and patience they had provided. He willingly absorbed all the lessons they taught him. As young as he was, he knew they were the key to his new future.

He just wished it could be with them. Always.

~~~~~ 

Eliot poured himself a cup of coffee and climbed onto a barstool beside Hardison, who was finishing up a late breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and a slice of ham. Eliot snatched the last half of toast off his plate and bit into it.

'Well, you're welcome, I'm sure. That gonna be your breakfast, just coffee and half my toast?'

'A lot on my mind, Hardison.'

'Yeah, I know. We done stole us a kid. That’s a first. Now all we gotta do is make him a new identity and find him a family. Documentation, man, that ain’t nothin,’ I mean, I can get you anything you need, but we gotta have somebody willin’ to take him - that ain't gon’ be easy. Gotta keep him out of foster care for two reasons. One, I erased Jimmy Hartman from existence - only thing that ties him to that bastard is his DNA; let's hope that stays in the closet. Two, Parker would kill me.'

'Yep…speakin' of the kid, where is he?'

'Parker took him to a carnival in Canby. He loves them things.’ Hardison looked at Eliot in mock sympathy. ‘Aw, I know, man…you didn't get to go with him. That is a damned shame. I know how much you love them rides.'

Eliot glowered at him. He could do without seeing another carnival for as long as he lived; with or without Nurse Gail's tender ministrations.

'Wait a minute - Parker took him -'

'Hey, Parker ain't teachin’ him to rappel off the ferris wheel or pick locks to get freebies if that's what you're worried about. Parker, she wants the best for this boy, Eliot, I think we all do. We all been keepin' it on the level.'

'Yeah. Just one avenue open to us and it ain't foster care. Wouldn’t work, especially now.'

'Open up a whole can o'worms, for one thing - he's like a ghost kid. No past and no future.' Hardison shook his head. 'We gotta find somebody to take him, Eliot.’

'I know.' Eliot picked up a bottle of hot sauce, opened it, sniffed it and set it down, twirling the bottle.

'Time’s gettin’ short. Gotta be somebody good. Tall order.'

Eliot was silent for a few moments.

'I, um…I have a nephew - remember that Bibletopia theme park job we did a few years back? I told you about him.'

'Yeah, I remember. What, he y’sister's boy?'

'No…my brother's.'

Hardison was taken aback. 'No shit? You got a brother, man? All these years and I didn't know you had a brother. That is so cool! So where is he?'

'Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Few years older than me.'

'What does he do?'

'Ranching, some crops - last I heard, anyway - what a lot of guys in Oklahoma not working the oil fields do. Anyway, my nephew - he's about four years older than Jimmy – I was just wondering how the two of 'em would get along…'

Hardison looked at Eliot with new interest. 'That kinda age spread - my Nana always said that was good. Too close in age, they compete with each other. Four years? That's just far enough apart for that big-brother-protector complex to kick in,' he ventured.

‘You thinking -'

'I dunno…maybe, man. I'm gonna go make some calls. I'll get back with ya, Hardison. Hey, thanks for the toast, man.'

'Sorry you didn't get a chance at the eggs and ham!' Hardison called sarcastically to Eliot's retreating back.

'Next time, Hardison.'

~~~~~ 

The phone call began inauspiciously.

'Hello, Jake.'

'Uh, who is this?'

'You know who it is, Jake. It's Eliot.'

‘Yeah…I knew. I’ll be damned. Haven’t heard from you in over ten years…since after you got out of the Army. After you walked off and left Dad on his own with the store.’

‘Didn’t notice you moving back home to help,’ Eliot shot back. ‘You did your thing. I wasn’t supposed to do mine?’

‘Drop it. What do you want, Eliot?’

Raking up the past wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Eliot realized. He dialed his anger back and took a deep breath. ‘I want…' He ran his fingers through his hair and tried again. 'I’d like to think I could ask my own brother for a favor.’

‘After all this time? Don’t forget I know what you’ve been up to all these years; the kind of work you’ve been doing, if you can call it work. I don’t trust you.’

‘The favor’s not for me, Jake.’

‘Well, just who’s it for, then?!’

‘A child…a little boy.’

‘Say what?’

Eliot told his brother a little about Jimmy. Not too much; just enough to get him interested.

‘Well, I will be damned,' Jake said again. 'You’re a friggin’ Boy Scout thief. Does that carry a merit badge?’

‘Cut the crap, Jake. This is on the level.’

‘Nothin’s on the level with you. The only reason I’m still talking to you is because of this kid you’re tellin' me about. Let me see if I got this straight. You want us to take him for a week or two and see how it works out.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And if it does, we’re clear to adopt him if we want him and you’ll provide the papers.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Jeez, what kind of black magic do you have? We’ve been trying to adopt for years. No luck.’

‘A special kind of black magic,’ Eliot grinned, thinking of Hardison. ‘Wait, what did you say? You've been trying to adopt?’ Damn, what was this, kismet?

'Yeah. Not surprised you didn't know. That's what happens when you walk away from family.'

'Yeah, yeah, change the record, Jake. Why no luck?'

‘It’s…well, it’s Jennifer. She has diabetes; has to take shots every day. She was diagnosed a few years back – not long after Jess was born. It’s pretty bad but so far we’ve been lucky, and she takes good care of herself.’

‘Why didn’t you try to reach me, man? Maybe I…’

‘Reach you? Reach you where, exactly? Wasn’t your business, anyway. Besides, you were never around when anybody needed you. Just ask Aimee.’

That dart hurt, going in. Eliot rubbed his thumb across his forehead. He cleared his throat and waited for his brother to continue.

‘Jennifer always wanted at least two or three kids – well, I did, too. Not just for help with the ranch, either; we like kids. We managed to have Jess and that was it. He’s twelve now, and all this time we’ve been trying for another. Well, it ain’t gonna happen with her like she is, and no judge will give a kid to anyone with her medical history. Hell, we put out feelers; we can’t even buy a kid! I thought, damn, you hear about people doing it all time but it ain’t in the cards. Not for us, anyway.’

‘There’s other methods, y’know, Jake. There’s invi…’

‘Hell - you priced those lately?‘ Jake broke in. ‘We’d pretty much given up. Now here you come outta nowhere, my long-lost criminal-thief-brother, handing us a kid. A goddamned bootleg kid. Holy shit. Knowing you, I know damned well it’s gonna be illegal but I’m desperate enough to try it…for Jen’s sake…but only if you can guarantee no repercussions will come from it! I don't want any blowback!’

‘I can guarantee that.’ Eliot said evenly.

‘How – no, never mind. I don’t wanna know. I do wanna know just one thing. What do you get out of it? You expect us to pay you?’

Infuriated, Eliot clenched his fist at the phone. For a minute he was too enraged to speak. ‘I don’t want anything out of this, Jake. I’m not getting anything out of this. Didn't you listen to what I was telling you? This kid’s been a punching bag for his old man his whole life. He's not going back to that!’

‘I get it, Eliot. Damn, thinking back, I remember… Our old man sure roughed you up plenty of times, didn’t he? Always took everything out on you. But then you always refused to back down. You seemed to enjoy goading the old bastard. Brought a lot of that on yourself.’

Eliot didn’t answer.

‘Kid’s not screwed up, is he?’

‘He’s fine. I’ve had him for nearly a month; he’s a level-headed little kid, real smart. Tries hard. He might be a little shy with you - he's not used to new people.'

‘Just so long as he won’t need a shrink – I can’t afford that shit, either.’

‘No, the kid’s ok. You just gotta meet him. Let me bring him and let him stay a couple of weeks. Any expense is on me. Just try it. If it doesn’t gell, you’re under no obligation.’

‘What if it doesn't gell? What’ll that do to the kid?’

‘Let me worry about that, Jake.'

'Is the kid with you? Is he there now? Can I talk to him?'

'Yeah, sure. Hang on.'

Parker sat on the den floor of Leverage, Inc., playing checkers with Jimmy. Hardison was, as usual, at his computer and Eliot was in his office, talking on the phone. The low hum of his conversation had been going on for several minutes.

Presently Eliot came into the living area, holding out his cell phone to Jimmy.

'Phone call for you, son.'

Jimmy looked up, round-eyed. Never in his short life could he remember ever getting a phone call of his very own. He stood up and approached Eliot shyly. Eliot smiled at him, reassuring him. Jimmy reached up for the phone and placed it to his ear.

'Hello?'

'Hiya! Listen, I asked Eliot to let me talk to you. Is your name Jimmy?'

'Um, yes, sir.'

'Hi, Jimmy. My name’s Jake. Now, you don't know me, but we have something in common. We both know Eliot, don't we?'

'Yes, sir.' Jimmy smiled up at his Batman.

'He tells me you like the outdoors. Ever been to a ranch? A real working ranch with horses and cattle?'

'Yes, sir, once. I liked it.'

While Jimmy was on the phone, Eliot motioned Parker and Hardison into the kitchen to give him some privacy. They watched Jimmy relax; the longer he was on the phone the more he loosened up and became a bouncy, excited little boy.

'Who is that, Eliot? Who's he talking to?' Parker asked.

'I think I know,' said Hardison with a grin.

'Let's wait until this plays out before I tell you. There's a lot riding on it.'

Ten minutes later, Jimmy was still talking. Presently he brought the phone back to Eliot.

'Can you hang this up for me?'

Eliot complied and slipped the phone into his pocket. Jimmy seemed distracted; his previous excitement was now rather subdued.

'Anything the matter, champ?'

'That was…that was…somebody who said he knew you.'

'Yeah, I do. You looked pretty excited there, talking to him.'

'I'm…uh, he…they have…they have a little boy. There's horses where he lives, and cows, and a swimming pool…and they…they want me to come visit them…and…Eliot, I don't understand.'

'I'll explain it to you, Jimmy, but tell me this, what do you think of Jake after talking to him?'

'He sounded real nice. I talked to his wife, too, I forgot her name, and she was nice, too. Gee, I'd really like to see a ranch again. But they're strangers and you wouldn't let me go visit strangers, would you?

'They're not strangers, Jimmy. You see, that man you talked to is my brother.' Eliot glanced at Parker, whose expressive face registered shocked surprise. 'Yes, Parker, I have a brother. Some aspects of my life are quite normal. I have a sister, too. You wanna poke me or something?'

Parker bugged her eyes at him.

Eliot continued, talking to Jimmy. 'Jennifer is his wife's name. She's a nice lady and a good cook. And they have a son, his name is Jess; he's a little older than you are. I wanted you to talk to them first to see if you liked them.'

'I do, I like them. They want me to come. So it would be ok for me to visit?'

'If you want.'

'Yesssss!' The excitement was back. Jimmy crouched and jerked his elbow down in the classic gesture. 'When can I go?'

'How's tomorrow?'

'You mean it? Tomorrow?'

'Yep, we'll fly down and you can stay for a while. Maybe a couple of weeks. Get to know everybody.'

'Fly? On a plane? Wow! But you're gonna come go with me, aren’t you?'

Eliot nodded. 'You bet, and I'll stay a few days with you. I haven't seen Jake in a long time.'

‘You’re not gonna stay the whole time I'm there?’

‘Wish I could, buddy, but I’ll have to come back to Portland to work. I’ll be back to get you. You ok with that?’

'I guess so. Where do they live, Eliot?'

'Oklahoma.'

'Really? Where Cousin Mike lived?'

Eliot looked up at Parker and Hardison. They exchanged smiles. 'Yeah, Jimmy, where Cousin Mike lived. Just a different town. That ok?'

Jimmy’s smile lit up the room.

~~~~~ 

TULSA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Eliot escorted an excited, bubbling young boy down the jetbridge to the airport waiting room, keeping a protective hand on his shoulder as they made their way to the lobby. Jimmy had scarcely stopped talking the entire way.

In the distance, a dark-haired man in a cowboy hat, jeans and boots, raised his right hand and nodded. Eliot repeated the gesture, somewhat guardedly.

'Is that him?' asked Jimmy.

'That's him,' said Eliot, gently guiding him forward. As they drew nearer, Eliot felt the boy tense up. Jimmy hung back slightly, keeping his head down. 'It's ok, son,' he reassured the boy.

Eliot held out a hand to his brother. 'Jake,' he said, simply.

'Eliot.' His brother hesitated a moment and shook his hand. He seemed to be taking his measure of Eliot, as Eliot was of him.

'This here's Jimmy, the young man I was telling you about.'

Jake smiled down at the boy and his whole demeanor changed. His face softened and he smiled warmly.

'Hiya, Jimmy.'  He gently shook the small hand that Jimmy offered.

'Well. Let's get your luggage, okay? Jenny's bringing the truck around and you can meet her. She's really looking forward to this. We're gonna make sure you have a good time and enjoy your stay with us.'

'Did your little boy come with you?' asked Jimmy hopefully.

'Naw, he's in school, son. You'll meet him this afternoon.'

Jake put an arm around Jimmy and guided him to the concourse that led to baggage claim. Eliot followed a few paces behind.

There was no mistaking the rather cold reception he had received from his brother, and on the walk to baggage claim, Jake kept his eyes straight ahead. His demeanor with Jimmy was warm and gentle; he chatted with the boy as they walked; still, Eliot found himself resenting the fact that Jake seemed so instantly possessive of Jimmy when as yet he'd done nothing to earn his trust. Jimmy looked back at Eliot. He's feeling it, too, Eliot said to himself. Maybe it'll be ok.

After greeting his sister-in-law, Eliot climbed into the back seat of the club cab, allowing Jimmy to sit between his relatives in the front seat and interact with them on his own. He was pleased to see the boy relax and banter easily with them and they in turn seemed to take to him. Eliot began to feel better about the situation, despite the icy wall that stood between him and Jake. It was a thick, high wall, one that would probably never melt.

After an hour's drive, Jake turned down a country road. As the truck approached the ranch, it passed through an iron entry gate flanked by an old fashioned split-rail fence. Mounted at the top was the symbol of the ranch's brand. Above that, stylized iron lettering read Tilted S Ranch.

'Wow!' exclaimed Jimmy. To the left and right were well-kept fields shaded by trees and populated by cattle, horses and goats. Jimmy craned his neck, trying to see everything at once.

'Nice place. You've done really well for yourself, Jake,' Eliot ventured.

'Thanks. We've been real happy here. 'Course, you gotta stay in one place to make something like this work. Can't be goin' off gallivantin' to hell'n'gone like some people I know.'

Eliot scowled and fell silent, staring out the window. If not for Jimmy, he'd be headed back to Portland right now - but he'd made a promise and he was determined to see it through. Jake seemed to be a kind and patient man with everyone but Eliot. However, Jimmy was the one who mattered here. Eliot resisted the urge to demand that Jake stop the truck so he could hitchhike back to the airport.

The truck pulled up in front of a typical one-story, frame ranch house. Three or four dogs came racing around the side of the house, barking. The exterior was painted a dark terra cotta with green trim and a railed porch ran the entire circumference of the structure. Posts with old-style, decorative gingerbread supported the dark green roof on which was mounted a running horse weather vane. The porch boasted a swing and a few chairs, tables and plants, and the walls were adorned with antique farm implements. Four large windows flanked the wide front door. A lucky horse shoe was nailed above it. It looked warm and welcoming.

Everyone piled out of the truck. Jimmy, giggling, was beset by the dogs' wet welcomes. Eliot knelt and scratched their ears. He grabbed his small carry-on and Jimmy's suitcase out of the truck and followed the boy, his brother and sister-in-law into their home for the very first time.

~~~~~ 

The afternoon had passed amiably as the adults kept the conversation light and innocuous. The focus was on the boys, who seemed to click from the moment Jess stepped off the school bus. Eliot surreptitiously studied his family as they interacted with Jimmy. They seemed quite taken with him and he in turn seemed at ease with them. It would take time, Eliot realized, to establish a true familial relationship but things were off to a good start.

As it got on toward evening and dinnertime, Eliot began to relax and feel like part of the family as he helped Jennifer carry and set plates, glasses and silver and lugged in an ice chest filled with beer and soda. Thick steaks and hamburger patties sizzled on an outdoor barbecue set up on the back porch near a large picnic table. Beyond the porch, the yard sloped toward an above-ground swimming pool in which the two boys playfully splashed. Eliot and Jennifer took their places at the picnic table; Jake was finishing up at the grill.

'Everything sure looks good,' Eliot commented.

Jennifer smiled and passed salad to Eliot, who was dressing a baked potato. Jake speared steaks off the grill and served them to his wife and his brother. Jennifer called down to the boys that dinner was ready.

'We'll eat in a minute, Mom!' yelled Jess.

Jennifer shook her head, laughing. 'Close the lid and keep the burgers warm, Jake. If I know boys, it won't take 'em long.' Jennifer handed Eliot an open can of cold beer.

'While the kids are busy, why don't we cut to the chase and talk about this,' said Jake.

'Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on them.'

Eliot nodded. 'Lot of things I couldn't tell you over the phone. Wanted you to meet him first.'

'You're sure going to a lot of trouble and, I assume, expense for this kid. You got that kind of money?'

Eliot smiled facetiously at Jake. 'I'm quite comfortable, thank you. He's worth it. Don't you think so?'

'We both like him very much…and Jess, he took to him right away,' Jennifer hastily imposed, feeling the tension building again between the two brothers. 'He's a very sweet little boy. Eliot…I'm curious…does Jimmy know why he's here?'

Eliot took a deep breath. 'Yeah, I think deep down, he knows. It's not black and white to him yet. When Jake talked to him on the phone he heard the words ranch and horses and got all excited. His cousin kept him for a while; he had a ranch.'

'Yeah, so you told me. And the cousin's dead. And the wife, she don't want him.'

'That's right.'

'If he or Jess should ask questions about why he's here, what should we say?' Jennifer asked.

'Keep it simple, Jennifer. It's just a visit. That's the truth. Don't say anything, don't go into a lot of detail. Just wait and see how it plays out; give it some time. Let him get used to you.'

'Huh,' said Jake. 'Just when did you get so good with kids? You've never had any I ever heard about…' Jake said sarcastically as he took a sip of beer, '…have you?'

'Jake…' Jennifer admonished her husband.

'It's all right, Jennifer. A man doesn't have to father 'em to treat 'em decent,' Eliot replied evenly. So much for the truce this afternoon, he thought. Jake was again getting on his nerves, keeping him on the defensive. He'd dealt a broken nose to many a guy who'd done a hell of a lot less. For Jimmy's sake - for Jennifer's sake - he'd hold it together today, but he'd cut the visit short and leave tomorrow morning. If he stayed much longer he feared Jennifer would find Jake laid out on his beautifully manicured lawn, bent double and bleeding from a split lip. Jake had always loved to bait his younger brother. Eliot had forgotten.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Jennifer broke the deadlock. ‘Jimmy's schooling, Eliot, how far behind is he? What were his grades like?’

‘He's missed about a month. I don't know about his grades, but my partners and me, we’ve been tutoring him. Kid’s sharp. You get him back in school, it won't take him long to catch up.'

'Jake told me his real father beat Jimmy.'

'That's an understatement. That scar on his cheek is 5 weeks old,' said Eliot, gesturing with his steak knife. 'Two stitches. I witnessed it. That bruise on his chin - 8 weeks ago. There are several more on his arms and back. You get him x-rayed, you'll see bone damage.'

'My God!' moaned Jennifer. 'Poor baby!'

'You're gonna need to have your family doctor check him. I don't know about allergies.'

'Sure, but…' said Jake. 'I still don't understand - how is it you have the kid?'

'That's not the issue here, Jake. His mother's dead and his father's in prison for her murder. Like I told you on the phone, I'm just trying to keep him out of foster care. Not exactly the best place for him, if you ask me.'

'He's adoptable?'

Eliot nodded. 'His documentation, birth certificate, social security card, everything is ready; you'll get it all after the two weeks if you're sure you want him.'

'You promised no repercussions. No other relatives, no other cousins, are gonna come crawling out of the woodwork after us?' Jake asked.

'No, there are none. We checked. Kid hasn't got a soul in the world.'

'I've been giving it some thought, Eliot…all this…it sounds just a little too good to be true,' Jake observed, shaking his head, 'and not exactly above board. Sure, I like the kid but I don't know…'

'Oh, Jake, please!' said Jennifer, alarmed.

Eliot laid his knife and fork on the plate, wiped his mouth on his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. 'Look, I know you don't trust me, Jake; you have no reason to. And it's true this isn't completely on the level. But this kid needs a home. I've arranged his documentation and you can take it to any lawyer in the state if you want. I'm trying to find him a safe place, and from what I've seen, I think you and Jennifer can give him that. Forgive me, Jennifer, but I'm aware of your difficulties, which is why I brought Jimmy to you. I didn't do it for myself or to make peace with Jake. Frankly, I don't think that's in the cards.'

Eliot stood up suddenly. 'Seems to me I'm trusting you more than you're trusting me. I'm trusting you with this kid for two weeks. If you have any doubts at all about this arrangement, or accepting Jimmy, tell me, and I'll take him back with me right now.'

Before Jake or Jennifer could answer, the two boys came splashing up onto the patio, reaching for towels, playfully shoving each other, and asking if dinner was ready.

Eliot stared fixedly at his brother, a piercing gaze that never wavered. Jake looked away, clearing his throat. Behind them, the boys were clamoring for the hamburgers.

'We'll talk some more later, Eliot,' said Jennifer in a conciliatory tone. 'Let me get them fed.'

~~~~~ 

Perhaps in a subtle effort to keep the peace, the family divided itself after dinner. Jake took the boys into the family room for games and a little TV; Eliot remained in the kitchen with his sister-in-law.

'More coffee?'

Eliot shook his head, brought his cup and placed it in the dishwasher.

'Has it always been like this with you and Jake?' she asked, filling the dishwasher with Eliot's help. He shrugged.

'We never agreed on anything; that's just how it was.'

Jake entered the kitchen. 'The boys are in bed. Jimmy went to sleep on the couch. I put him in the front guest room. Eliot, yours is the second door to the left. Any more coffee left?'

As Jennifer poured her husband's coffee, Eliot excused himself and stepped outside. He was in no mood for conversation.  He leaned against one of the porch supports, working a toothpick around in his mouth. The night air was refreshing after the strained atmosphere of his brother's home. He stepped down off the porch and walked some distance from the house. He leaned against the rustic fence and glanced up. This is what he missed about the country, especially on a moonless night like this. No way could you see that many stars in Portland. A gentle breeze blew his long hair back across his shoulder, carrying with it scents of the country.

'Eliot.'

It was Jennifer. He kept his eyes on the Milky Way.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘No.’

'I gathered you didn’t want to talk to Jake any more. I really don't blame you. I just…I just wanted to say I appreciate what you're trying to do for Jimmy…and for me, too, if you don't mind my saying…when you barely know me. You don't know how much I've wanted another child. It's like a dream come true. And you don't have to worry about Jimmy. We'll take good care of him these two weeks.'

Eliot continued to gaze at the stars. 'I know you will.'

Jennifer cast a sidelong glance at her brother-in-law, barely visible in the dim light. 'You know…it's probably going to take a lot longer than two weeks for these boys to acclimate to each other…there are liable to be some rows. All normal, I would think. We'll just have to see that the rows don't turn into you and Jake, Round Two, won't we?'

Eliot felt her smiling in the darkness. 'You sound like you think this is gonna work out.'

'Yes. I think it will. And if it seems as if your brother doesn't trust you, Eliot…let me say that I do.'

'Thanks, Jen.'

'You planning on going back tomorrow?'

'Yeah, first light. I'll tell Jimmy I had to leave early and call a cab.'

'Sorry you couldn't stay longer. I wish you and your brother could be friends.' Jennifer sighed. 'You know, I was thinking…'

'What?'

'This may sound silly, but Jimmy might just end up being the bridge between you; maybe mend things. You think?'

'Huh. Maybe. I dunno.'

'Well, anyway, I've made your bed for you and there's fresh towels laid out. Why don't you come get some sleep?'

'I'll be in soon.'

Jennifer turned back to the house.

'Jen?' Eliot called softly. 'Thank you.'

'No matter what, Eliot Spencer, you're family. Never forget that.'  Jennifer went back into the house.

Eliot stayed on a few more minutes, gazing at stars that seemed to shine much more brightly.

 ~~~

THREE WEEKS LATER

Eliot’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller ID - it was Jake Spencer. Eliot closed his eyes for a minute, angry but hoping, hoping…

He answered the call in a gritty, guttural tone. 'It's about time you called! Do you know how long it's been?’

Jake's voice on the other end sounded almost jovial. 'Yeah, yeah, I know, I agreed to call you every week and we're a week overdue. So sue me. We took a vacation.'

‘You took a vacation?!’

‘Yeah, that thing you do when you want to show the kids a good time, you know, a vacation. Went all over Oklahoma; covered the state. Fairs, rodeos, canyons, you name it…’

‘Well, I hope everybody had fun! Call next time!’

‘Calm down, Eliot…your nephews had a great time. And so did we.’

Eliot did a double take. _Your nephews_ … 'Wait… Hold on. Are you telling me…'

'It’s a boy! Fifty-two pounds, seven ounces. We've adopted Jimmy. That makes him your nephew, right?’

Eliot laughed out loud. 'Aw man, that is just awesome!'

‘You want to talk to him?’

‘Yeah, man, put him on.’ Eliot could hear Jake calling the boy, and running footsteps. Jimmy's breathless, excited voice told Eliot everything he needed to know.

'Eliot!'

'Hi, son. How ya doin'?'

'I'm great! How are you?'

'Doin' just fine. Heard you went on vacation.'

‘Yeah, Mom and Dad took us everywhere! I saw a dinosaur…well, the bones…and a rodeo…and tell Parker I rode the ferris wheel at three carnivals!’

‘That's just great. How do you like Jess, son?’

‘He’s a lot of fun! He was just teachin’ me how to play chess! Eliot! They want me to stay with them!’

'I know. Are you happy with the idea?'

'Yeah! I get to have a brother!'

Eliot laughed again. ‘You go on back to chess – I just wanted to say hello. Lemme talk to your…dad.’

Jimmy handed the phone over and dashed off.

‘Hey, Eliot. Listen, you want to come back, say goodbye to Jimmy?’

 _Was the man he was talking to really his brother?_   Eliot cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, uh, my partners and I…we’d all like to come if it’s ok. They took care of Jimmy for a long time. I know they'd like to see him one more time.’

‘Sure, you betcha. Bring ‘em on.’

‘Next weekend ok?’

‘Sure. See you then, Eliot.’

~~~~~ 

The following week, the Leverage team landed in Tulsa and took a rented car out to the ranch. 'So this is Oklahoma,' Hardison remarked. 'Never been here before. Kinda rural.'

'Kinda flat,' said Parker.

'Aw, it's not so bad. Clean air… snows in winter… it's a good town, good place to raise kids,' Eliot chimed in. He drove with one hand on the wheel, rubbing his chin with his thumb. Despite the rather friendly phone call, he didn't really look forward to seeing Jake again… and it was going to be hard to say goodbye to Jimmy. The last three weeks had been difficult for all of them without the child around. Still, it had to be done. He turned into the ranch's driveway.

'The Tilted S?' said Parker, reading the sign. 'I would have named it the Crooked S.'

'Yeah, well, it's not your ranch, is it, Parker?' Eliot growled, pulling up in front of the house.

'Jeez, what is with you, man?'

'Just not lookin' forward to this, Hardison.' Eliot tapped the horn. As he expected, the dogs came racing around the house to join the family as they came down the porch steps to greet the guests.

After a round of hugs for Jimmy, Eliot made the introductions. 'Jake, Jennifer, these are my partners, Parker and Alec Hardison. They've helped take care of Jimmy. This is Jess, my nephew.'

'Nice to meet Eliot's family,' said Parker, shaking hands all around.

'Hello, Miss Parker,' said Jake. 'Is it Miss or Mrs?'

'Um,' Parker began, but after intercepting a look from Eliot, she let it go. 'Miss will do fine.'

'Good to meet you,' said Hardison. He held out a manila envelope. 'Here you go - all the documentation on Jimmy you'll ever need. Except his high school and college diplomas, he's gonna have to earn those,' Hardison joked.

Jake took the documents and shook Hardison's hand. 'This makes him officially ours, huh?'

'Sho' does!' exclaimed Hardison, who held out his hand and slapped Jimmy's small one twice, then touched his fist to Jimmy's while Jess looked on, intrigued.

'Like this, Jess,' said Jimmy, and demonstrated the unique handshake to his new brother.

'Ya'll come on in, have some coffee,' said Jennifer. ‘You’re just in time for lunch; Jake just put hamburgers on.’

Jimmy held Parker’s hand as they walked across the yard. She was talking to herself. 'Jake… Jennifer… Jess… Jimmy. Wow.’

‘What is it, Parker?’

‘Your names…they all start with J. It’s like you were born to be together.’

‘Yeah, we even sound like a family, don't we?’

‘Cool!' said Parker. She turned back. Eliot was standing with his brother. ‘Aren’t you coming in?’

‘In a minute, Parker. Hey, Jimmy, tell Hardison you’re learning chess. I bet he’ll wanna play you after lunch.’

Eliot and Jake walked over to the split rail fence.

‘I was hoping you’d take him,’ Eliot said simply, stooping to pop a blade of sweetgrass. He put it between his teeth, enjoying the slight scent of vanilla.

‘Well…to tell you the truth I wasn’t real sure. Never did anything that wasn’t on the level, you know?’

‘Somebody had to step up. Help this kid.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Has he said anything about his old man?’

‘His real dad? Not a word.’

‘Didn't think he would.’ Eliot spat the sweetgrass out and leaned against the weathered railing of the fence. 'You don't have to worry about that bastard, either. I promise, you'll never hear from him. Listen, Jake, I'll leave it to you to handle what Jimmy wants to tell you. I'd be willing to bet he drops these past eight years out of his mind. Don't dredge it up, but let him do the talking if he wants to. If he talks about anybody, it’ll be his mother. He's so young, he probably won't even remember this time of his life ten years from now. Keep him busy.’

‘Around here? That’s no problem.’ Jake surprised Eliot with a warm smile. ‘Don't worry, Eliot. I'll do a good job of raising him. Make sure he goes to college… encourage him to be whatever he wants. I kinda hope he'll choose ranching, though. Nothing better than being an Oklahoma rancher with a good wife and five kids. At least we have two now… thanks to you.'

Eliot nodded.

'I ain't our old man, Eliot,' Jake said as an afterthought.

'I know that. Couldn't think of anybody else to take him but you guys.' Eliot turned to go back to the house.

‘Wait, Eliot, look, uh, I, um…' Jake dipped his head apologetically and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 'I want to say I'm…'

Eliot waited expectantly.

'Thanks, y'know…for…for everything you did.'  Jake held out his hand. Eliot looked Jake in the eye then shook his brother's hand with a strong grip. He was surprised when Jake moved in for a crashing shoulder hug.

~~~~~ 

The time had come.

'Sure you can't overnight with us? We'll make room,' Jennifer offered as they trooped down the porch steps.

'Thanks…we gotta be gettin' back,' Hardison replied. 'Night flight.'

'Yeah, I've never slept on a plane before.'

Hardison hung back, looking at her in astonishment. 'You certainly have, Parker,' he whispered. 'Remember?'

'Well, yeah, but who slept?'

Hardison rolled his eyes, took her arm and escorted her out to the driveway where everyone had gathered to say their farewells.

Parker opened the car door, rummaged through her bag and handed Jimmy a small wallet. 'Thought you could use this.'

Jimmy admired it and looked inside. There were five new, crisp ten-dollar bills.

'Smell 'em. They smell good!'

'Parker!' Eliot admonished.

'Carnival money,' amended Parker. 'Gotta be a carnival around here somewhere.'

‘Wow! Thanks, Parker!’

Parker knelt and embraced the little boy she'd grown so fond of. She was going to miss him. 'Be good,' she said, stepping back.

Hardison was next. He repeated the special handshake. 'Our sign, man. You one o'the team.' Hardison fished in his pocket and brought out a thumb drive. 'Lotta games on that. Maybe your new brother'll play 'em with you.

‘Thanks, Mr. Hardison.'

The three Spencers retreated to the porch while Parker and Hardison got in the car, allowing Eliot to have a minute alone with Jimmy.

The child was fighting tears, trying to be brave, but the thought of his Batman leaving was tearing at his heart.  'Do you have to go, Eliot?'

Eliot tried to keep it light. He crouched, ruffling Jimmy's hair and smiling at him. 'Yeah, man, just for now. Gotta go back to work. But you gotta nice new family to be with and you don't ever have to be afraid again. You hear me? You're all set for a good life. I want you to mind them and make good grades in school. They're gonna take good care of you. Do your best, always. Okay? Now hold out your hand.'

Jimmy complied. Eliot held out a closed fist, palm down. Jimmy watched in amazement as Eliot flicked his wrist, twirling something in his fingers, then suddenly, there appeared between his thumb and index finger a folding knife in a leather sheath. 'A ranch hand's gotta have a good knife. Get your dad to show you how to sharpen it.'

Jimmy, choking back tears, could only nod and smile his thanks. He was only eight years old. He'd been brave all morning but the thought of Eliot leaving; never seeing him again, finally got the best of him. He began crying. 'I wanna stay with you! Please don't leave me, Batman,' he sobbed.

'Batman?' Eliot smiled. 'Naw, man, I ain't Batman. I'm somethin' way better'n that. Know what it is?'

'No, what?' Jimmy asked, still sobbing, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

'I'm your uncle, man. You didn't think of that, did you? Your name's Spencer now, just like me. Jake's your new dad, right? Remember I told you, he was my brother? Well, that makes us uncle and nephew. And that means I'll be back to visit you from time to time.'

Eliot shot a questioning look at his brother and Jake nodded, smiling.

'Honest?'

'Honest.'

Hardison rolled down the window to the car. 'Hey, Eliot!'

'Little busy now, Hardison!'

'A'ight, if you don't want me to teach you how to Skype Jimmy, I'm down wi'dat…'

Eliot rolled his eyes. 'Ok, Jimmy, in between visits I'll Skype you, whatever the hell that is…'

'You're really my Uncle Eliot now?'

Eliot took the child by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. 'Always.'

Jimmy grabbed Eliot around the neck and hugged him fiercely. Happy and relieved, he took off running back to his new family. Jake and Jennifer stood together on the porch, an arm around each son.

Eliot climbed into the driver's seat of the rented car. He, Parker and Hardison gave a final wave and drove off in a cloud of dust.

~~~~~ 

PORTLAND, OREGON

Eliot Spencer lounged on the couch watching TV and sipping a beer. Half his mind was on the news and the other half on the little boy he’d left in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Parker was in the kitchen preparing a bowl of cereal. Alec Hardison, seated at his computer, saved his spreadsheet, stretched his muscles, snatched up a piece of paper covered with figures, crumpled it and lobbed it into the trash can across the room. 'Two points,' he said, more out of habit than glee.

Eliot glanced back at Hardison. ‘You done?’

‘Yeah,’ Hardison sighed.

‘What’s the damage?’

‘Outta pocket: $4,977.65.’

‘Not too bad,’ Eliot remarked.

‘No profit on this job.’

‘Well, it wasn’t really a job, now, was it?’

Parker piped up from the kitchen. ‘What, saving Jimmy’s life wasn’t a job? Investing in a kid’s future isn’t a profit? Jimmy could be the next president!’

‘Come down outta the clouds, Parker,’ admonished Eliot.

‘OK… then… vice president… an FBI agent… a police captain!’

Hardison camped it up, eyes wide in mock fear. ‘And Jimmy…aw man…he knows … he knows about us,’ Hardison said, making his voice tremble. ‘Lawd have mercy… what've we done…’

‘Stop it,’ Eliot snapped.

‘Aw Eliot, loosen up. We just speculatin’. Havin’ some fun, man… that’s all.’

Eliot said nothing. The others lapsed into silence, sensing Eliot’s uncompromising mood. Parker brought her cereal and Hardison a bowl of popcorn and the ever present orange soda. They joined him on the couch to watch the last half of the news with sports and weather.

Suddenly Eliot spoke, nodding his head. ‘Jimmy’s gonna be fine. He’ll be a hard-working, Oklahoma rancher with a good wife and five kids. He’ll be a happy man.'

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**SECOND SEQUEL**

THE TILTED S - SPENCER RANCH, OKLAHOMA

The aromas of a roast beef dinner with garlic mashed potatoes and garden turnip greens wafted through the large ranch house; two rambunctious boys needed no engraved invitation to hurry down the stairs to dinner. There had been times when their mother resorted to ringing the large triangle hung from the back porch to call them in from their afternoon chores, the pool (in summer) or any one of a myriad of activities that went with living on a ranch. Tonight, however, there was a late spring storm looming on the horizon; all necessary chores and preparation had been completed while the boys were in school this Thursday afternoon, and the Spencer family could look forward to a cozy night of dinner and TV. The forecast promised a good weekend.

Jess, the older boy by eighteen months, flung himself into his seat, mouth watering. Hard on his heels was Jimmy, a wiry yet weedy boy of ten. Jake, their father, was helping his wife Jennifer bring dishes to the table. Jimmy grabbed the salt, pepper, glass of green onions and the rack of extra napkins. Jake set the platter of roast on the table; Jennifer placed the vegetables and turned to Jimmy to relieve him of his burdens.

'Thanks, son,' she smiled warmly. 'Jess, you seem to be in a big hurry to eat, so we'll slow your roll by asking you to say grace.'

As everyone took their places and clasped hands, Jess grinned impishly. 'Grace,' he smirked.

'I reckon I'd do better than that, son,' admonished his father, gently.

'Sorry, Dad…' Jess complied with the proper prayer and as the last Amen sounded the four of them dug in.

'Thought you were going to save the roast for Sunday?' Jake asked, carving.

'Don't you remember? The boys have plans for the weekend. Me, I was planning sandwiches for us those two days so I don't have to cook! Maybe I can get the porch curtains finished. That ok with you?'

'Suits me fine, Honey… damn!' Jake exclaimed with pleasure as the moist roast beef melted in his mouth. 'You've outdone yourself this time. Here it is Thursday when we usually have meat loaf and you make a dinner fit for a king!'

Jennifer smiled impishly at her husband. She looked around the table at her sons - Jess, her only natural child, and Jimmy, whom she considered a gift from God. No, that wasn't quite right. Her brother-in-law had stood in for God in this instance, having arranged Jimmy's adoption a little over two years ago. Her family as it was: perfect. One person for each side of the table. Balanced. Harmonious. Jimmy melded into the family like he'd been hot-glued. It had to be fate. Kismet. Maybe even the workings of Karma. Her heart swelled with gratitude; she pressed her napkin to her lips to quell the quivering and blinked back tears as she looked at the members of her family scarfing down their evening meal.

'Hey, we're getting low on tea. I'll get the pitcher and top it off.'

'I'll do it, Mom!' Jimmy jumped up.

'Suck up,' Jess teased his brother.

'Grow up!' Jimmy rejoined.

Holding the now-full, heavy glass pitcher in both hands, he stepped carefully over the dining room threshold and was almost to the table when it slipped from his grasp. Tea and shards flew across the floor. Stunned, Jimmy looked at the mess in horror. He gasped sharply. Before anyone could react, he ran from the room.

'Jimmy,' his mother called to him, 'it's ok, Honey, no biggie! Come finish your dinner!'

When the boy didn't answer, she rose from the table. Jake was already throwing towels from the laundry room down and Jess was sweeping up glass. No one had uttered a word of complaint.

'Go find him, Jennifer,' Jake advised.

Jennifer went through the house, room by room, gently calling Jimmy. 'Honey … it's all right … Jimmy, where are you … you're not in trouble, son…'

She went upstairs and searched the bedrooms and found Jimmy at last. He had taken refuge in the closet in his room, huddled back in the corner, doubled up and quivering, saying softly I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry over and over again. Jennifer was taken aback. She was aware of his history as an severely abused child but until now he had never shown any evidence of it. He'd adjusted to his new situation so well, now given a decent family to live with. Therapy had been considered but they figured it was not needed. This was the first manifestation of his hellish past, the first time he had ever given in to the anguish which must still be buried deep inside, so deep that he perhaps was not even aware of it. Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to their doctor after all; he could recommend somebody.

Jennifer turned on the closet light but flicked it off again when Jimmy started screaming. She didn't know what to do. She followed her instincts. Kneeling on the carpet in the doorway to the closet, she called softly to the boy.

'Jimmy … Jimmy … it's Mommie. Come on out, son. Everything is ok. It's all right. It's all right.'

She kept up her soft litany until Jimmy raised his tear-streaked face and looked at her. She had her arms out, but not totally extended. There were no belts in her hands, no spatulas or baseball bats. Just her hands. They weren't reaching to grab him, either, just hanging in mid-air, beckoning, her soft voice calling to him, inviting trust, offering love.

Jimmy looked around, as if realizing where he was. He wasn't with Dad and Niki. Not anymore. He was home. This was his mother. Not the real mother he barely remembered from before, but a new mother, one who was kind and loving, one he had grown to trust. For a few minutes he'd forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

He unfolded himself and crawled closer to her, still sobbing. There was no sudden tug at his t-shirt to drag him out of the closet against his will. She waited for him to come the full distance, to touch her first, to gather his courage and climb onto her lap. Although ten years old, his previous life had stunted him to the point where his small frame fit rather nicely in her arms. He huddled there as she sat on the floor, rocking and comforting him. A shadow fell over the two of them: Jake and Jess were there. They knelt together in that small space to assure Jimmy that he had not ruined dinner; that no punishment was forthcoming; to strengthen their bond. When Jimmy calmed down, they went downstairs to finish dinner. The floor looked like nothing had touched it.

After dinner was over, Jennifer thought it best that Jimmy go to bed early. Just one more day of school, she reminded him, then you get to spend the weekend camping with Chris! Don't you remember, you're riding the bus with him to his house tomorrow after school! Jennifer tried her best to distract him but Jimmy seemed bent on explaining himself. He told her about the night he had dropped the bottle of oil in the store; how he had then met the man who would change his life forever. For the better. His own personal Batman, or so he thought at the time.

Jimmy nervously rambled on. 'I was such a little kid, Mom. I actually thought he was Batman without his costume. Gosh, you should have seen him! And he turned out to be just a regular guy … my Uncle Eliot. Isn't that stupid?'

'Not at all, son. And I know the story, your uncle told it to us before. I think tonight triggered something in you, and we didn't mean to do that. Actually … it was my fault. I should have gotten the tea instead of you. You couldn't help dropping that big heavy pitcher; frankly, just between you and me, I'm glad you broke it! It hurt my hands every time I picked it up! You were nothing but helpful tonight.'

'For real, Mom? You're not mad?'

'For real, Jimmy. Tell you what. When you get back from Chris's house we're going to Walmart to get a plastic one! How's that?' She goosed him in the ribs, making him giggle. 'I just want you to have a wonderful weekend, ok? Don't think about anything else. Don't worry about anything. Just fish and camp and let's hope it doesn't rain any more where you're going! Hey - how about a back rub to help you get to sleep.'

He nodded, smiling.

'Turn over,' she said.

Jimmy breathed a huge sigh and relaxed under her hands. In seconds he was asleep.

Jake paused in the doorway, whispering. 'Jess is in bed. I got the dishes washed and the food put up.'

Jennifer nodded her thanks.

In their bedroom later that night, she and her husband held a whispered conference.

'I think we should take Jimmy to a doctor next week,' Jake suggested. 'Get a recommendation for a psychologist or whatever you call those guys. I've never seen Jimmy go off like this.'

Jennifer turned down the bed, closed the drapes and set the alarm. 'So do I, Jake. But I don't think it's as bad as you think. He just had a flashback. Poor kid's got PTSD or something. Frankly, from what your brother told us about him, I'm surprised he's done as well as he has.'

Jake sat in the easy chair, pulling off his boots and socks. He looked at his wife thoughtfully. 'Yeah … Eliot seemed to think he'd be ok, though.'

'He will be, Jake,' she assured him. 'Now's not the time to give up on him! He needs time.'

'Who said anything about giving up, Jen? He's my son. I'll do whatever it takes to get him well.'

'That's what I hoped you'd say.'

Jake cast a mischievous grin at his wife. 'Um, speaking of say, did I tell you I love you today?'

'You sure haven't.'

'Aw, damn shame. Well … maybe tomorrow…'

Jennifer threw a pillow at him.

~~~~~ 

Detectives, after shelving solved cases, were usually content to let them rest. Their plates were full enough without keeping their fingers on the pulses of old ones. Occasionally, however, one would rise from the grave to catch their attention when they had time to peruse the newspapers at home or in the break room. Reporters were always monitoring pulses.

Lt. Bill Leavins sat with his chair tipped back, head almost obscured by the cloud of cigarette smoke wafting from the corner of his mouth. He popped the morning paper wide and began reading, squinting through the smoke with one eye open. _Ok, so he'd tried to quit and succeeded for six whole months … but he had to have a crutch, dammit, especially with this job. His wife could just shut up about it_. He checked the weather and skimmed the headlines, growing more and more weary at the plethora of political pap. The secondary headlines were more interesting. He leaned forward to straighten his chair as he zeroed in on one in particular:

         Man Out on Bail After 18 Months in Prison 

> A man convicted of a double murder has been released on bail pending a new trial.  It was the first case taken up by the _Multnomah Innocence Project_ , founded in 2008, which resulted in an overturned verdict.  Hugh Hartman was tried and convicted in 2014 of the murder of his wife and son.  "The prosecution has one rather grainy video as evidence.  That's all.  There is no DNA, no witnesses, and one body in this alleged double murder has never been found.  Further, the psychologist called as an expert witness in this case was found to be unreliable," said a representative of the MIP.  "In essence, this was a mistrial.  A new defense attorney has taken the case.  In the interim, Hartman is out on bail."

Lt. Leavins read the rest of the article in disbelief.

The door opened as Leavins' partner, Lt. Frank Kramer, stuck his head in, sniffing appreciatively. 'MMMM. You make a fresh pot? Smells like it.'

'Yeah, just for you, as a reward for you making Lieutenant,' Leavins joked grimly. 'Come on in - got something for you to read. Don't pour your coffee yet - it won't sit well.'

'Whatcha got?' asked Kramer, turning the chair around. He straddled it backwards.

Leavins pointed out the article as he handed the paper over. As Kramer read, Leavins watched an incredulous look come over his partner's face, mirroring his own.

'That film we got our hands on showed that bastard's face. _Clearly_. No mistaking it. _What the fuck_?!?'

'Yeah - that's a defense lawyer for you. They set doubt like a nail in soft wood and hammer it home. That's bleeding heart liberals who think a murderer should have his hand slapped. _Aw, that's ok son, Mommie knows you didn't mean it_. That's the whole justice system we try to uphold in a nutshell. The work you and me do, boy, it's a fucking waste of time.' Leavins got up in disgust and flung his coffee cup a little too forcefully into the sink. It broke.

'Shit. That was my favorite fucking cup.'

'All fine and dandy to bitch about the situation, Bill, but what can we _do_?'

'At the moment … not a goddamn thing. Come on, we got other fish to fry. Take your coffee to go.'

'Nah, my stomach just turned sour.'

'Told ya,' said Leavins, holding the door open.

 ~~~~~

 Hugh Hartman walked out of the courthouse in the company of his new lawyer and members of the _Multnomah Innocence Project_ , shaking hands all around. He filled his lungs with free air. Now … at long last, he could set things back like they were; get back to square one before all this crap began; start over. He had to hurry, though, his new trial was due to start in six weeks.

The MIP had donated a generous sum and he had the small amount he'd earned in prison. It would do for now. He bought a burner phone, some decent clothes, got a shave and a haircut. He stared at himself in the mirror: his face was fuller than he remembered; his forehead lined; his hair much grayer. His hairline was receding. Still, now well-groomed and dressed in a suit, he presented a much better appearance and looked more like the lawyer he had once been. Disbarred now, he wondered idly how he could make a living once he was cleared…and of _that_ he had no doubt; he _would_ be cleared; he had complete confidence in his new criminal defense lawyer. He himself had once followed that same career. In fact, the new lawyer was willing to listen to his ideas. Things were looking up.

Hartman's time in prison had not been wasted. He had lined out a plan months ago, pending his release. He put the first part of his plan into action now, directing the cabdriver to the Harrison Towers. He rode the elevator to the seventh floor, half expecting to find everything as he had left it. Realistically, he knew better. But no harm in trying.

He knocked hard on the door of 723. Presently, the door cracked open, restrained by a short security chain, and a middle-aged Asian woman looked up at him.

'Yes?' she said cautiously.

Hartman's improbable expectations dashed, he restrained himself from popping the security chain and gaining access to look for himself. All he needed now that he was _out,_ however, was a B &E charge to put him back _in_. He cleared his throat.

'Pardon me, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you. I'm looking for someone who used to live here. It's been about two years.'

'Who you want?' the woman asked in broken English.

'I'm looking for a woman named Niki Johns who used to live here. She's … well, she'd be in her late twenties by now, blonde, about this tall…' he indicated with his hand held to his shoulder.

'No … I sorry. I not know anyone by that name. We just move in week ago; there was family of four that move out. Two year go by … many people live here, I think.'

'Yeah, I guess so. Well…thank you. Sorry to have disturbed you.'

The woman nodded and closed the door; Hartman heard the deadbolt click on the other side. He walked back down the hall, rode the elevator to the street and attempted to hail another cab.

_Ok, that was a dead end. Step One's a bust. Niki wasn't all that important, anyway; any motel could be home base. He could concentrate on Step Two now, and he knew just where to start. He was determined to find the son they all said he **didn't have.**_

_~~~~~_

'Where to, sir?' asked the cabbie as Hartman climbed into the back seat. A cheerful, portly man with a baby-face, he adjusted his cap and patiently waited until his passenger was settled.

'I don't have the address, but it's a pub --'

'Lots of good pubs in Portland,' the cheery cab driver interrupted. 'I can recommend several.' He smiled at the man in the rear view mirror.

'I'm going to one in particular, if you'll let me _finish_. A place called the Bridgeport Brew Pub. Heard of that one? Know where it is?' Harman barked.

 _Humor's wasted on this one_ , thought the cabbie. Aloud, he said, 'sure. Won't be much on the meter, either. Hang on. Y'know,' he chuckled, 'they have the damndest collection of brewed beer I ever tasted, but it's got a real homey atmosphere.'

'You don't say …' Hugh replied in a detached manner. Ambience wasn't his first priority.

'Yeah. Hey - tell 'em you want a glass of _Thief Juice_ , the cabbie joked. 'Tastes citrusy.'

'Huh.'

The cabbie glanced in his rear view mirror. This was one sour customer. He said nothing more as he pulled up in front of a tired old red brick building with dozens of arched windows, some with colored panes and some boarded over, with a black iron fence bordering a raised, three-foot concrete sidewalk.

'This? You're kidding, right?'

'No, really, this is it. See the sign? Just go in there,' directed the cabbie, pointing to the doors.

'What do I owe you?'

The cabbie silently pointed to the meter. Hartman pulled the exact change from his pocket and thrust it at the man. There was no tip.

'Jerk,' said the cabbie as he drove off.

Hartman approached the building, climbed the concrete steps and entered the pub. He took a seat by the front window and waited to be served. He didn't have to wait long. A petite brunette came almost immediately with a menu.

'Hello, my name is Amy and I'll be your server today. What can I get for you?'

The man perused the drink section of the menu. 'Oh, wow,' he said in surprise, in spite of himself.

'What?'

'The cab driver said you had a drink called _Thief Juice_. I thought he was kidding. Here it is.'

'Would you like to try it?'

He considered a moment and shook his head. 'No, let me go with something I'm more familiar with. Michelob Ultra.'

'How about a sandwich?'

Hartman realized he hadn't eaten all day. Too bent on action. He nodded. 'Yeah … yeah, gimme a ham on rye with a pickle spear. Garlic stuffed olives. Dijon mustard.'

'All right …' Amy smiled, writing. 'It'll be right out.' She returned to the kitchen, surreptitiously watching her new customer. He was looking around the pub, eyes on everything, slightly twitchy. Every sense seemed to be heightened.

Parker, filling in as supervisor for a few days while Eliot and Hardison were out of town, hovered at the wait station. She'd be glad when Hardison got back; this was _his_ baby and he needed to mind it. Other things commanded her attention and they were far more interesting. She noticed Amy watching the corner window booth.

'Anything wrong?' asked Parker.

'No, not really. It's that guy by the window. I just get a sense of … I dunno what … he _wants_ something.'

'Sure he wants something. He wants his order. Did you turn it in?'

'Of course. It's just … it's more than that, Parker…'

'Amy … I know what you're thinking, but not everyone who comes in here has…,' Parker leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper, '…a problem the team can _fix_ , if you know what I _mean_.' Parker drove the point home with a slightly crazed expression.

'Like you did for _me_ a couple of years back. You literally saved my life! That was epic.'

'Yeah! That's what I'm _saying_! Not every customer is gonna be _epic_!' Parker flounced back to the kitchen, ponytail flying.

Amy shrugged, drew the beer, picked up the sandwich from the window and carried it to the table. She arranged everything: extra napkins, flatware, ketchup, salt, pepper.

'Anything else I can get for you, sir?'

Hartman glanced around, furtively, and looked up at Amy.

'Uh … yeah … now that you mention it … wait a minute.'

Amy waited expectantly as Hartman bit into his sandwich. 'Sorry,' he smiled. 'Guess I was hungrier than I thought. Can you, uh … can you - are you allowed to sit for a minute?'

Amy looked around. It was slow; the other three customers seemed content for now and Parker was in the kitchen. She nodded. 'Only a minute, though.'

'Listen, I know you have to get back to work. I just need … somebody I met in … I mean, somebody reliable told me about this place. He said that while they don't advertise anything, they have a sort of … undercover operation … they help people who need … help. And you don't have to pay. Is that right? Is this the right place?'

'Um,' said Amy, stalling for time. She'd been right about him. He was a potential client! _I knew it! I just knew it! I really need to get Parker_ , she was thinking. _But I wonder if I could handle this on my own?_

'Yes,' she replied definitively. 'This is the right place. What is it … that you need? That you want us to do?'

'I have a … uh, a nephew. He's the only family I have left. He's a child, a little boy, eight years old the last time I saw him. He should be ten by now. His mother and father - who was my brother - died, and I think the boy was adopted out. Frankly, I wish I had been consulted before … I just want to see him and make sure he's all right.'

'Was it an open adoption or one of those where they seal the records?'

'See that's just it; I don't know. I've been out of the country for a couple of years, working, and I come back to find my family gone … it's been hard, you know?'

'Sure,' Amy replied sympathetically. 'Listen I have to go now, but I'll see what I can do. Here -' Amy dug into her pocket and produced a piece of paper and a pencil. 'Write down his name, his parents' names, dates, anything you can remember that will help. Oh, and I'll need your phone number. I'll come pick it up after you finish eating.'

He nodded.

'Enjoy,' she said as she returned to her duties.

~~~~~

By the time Amy returned to the corner booth, the man had gone. Hartman had folded a small tip into the paper along with a printed copy of a picture - the one picture of his son that his lawyer had managed to dig up. Amy quickly scanned what was written on the paper, folded it and put it in her pocket. She worked through the afternoon and was helping close up when Parker approached her. She looked frazzled.

'Amy, the kitchen's done - can you finish and lock up for me? I'm going home.'

'Sure, Parker. I'll put everything in the safe. Hardison gave me the combination.'

Parker considered. 'You know, Hardison likes the receipts entered every day …'

'I know. I can do that; I know Quicken. He's let me do it a couple of times.'

'Okay. I'll have to give you the new password - ' Parker shrugged. 'He changes it practically every day. It's _treetrunk_. All one word. You're on overtime but you're sure you don't mind staying over?'

'Oh, no, I could use the extra money. Thanks, Parker.'

'See you tomorrow,' Parker said as she headed out the door.

Amy locked the door behind her and turned down the lights. Alone at Leverage International, she was on her way to the office upstairs when she realized, in light of her customer's dilemma, that she had the password to the office computer. Unless there were other lockouts, she had a good shot at doing some research for her customer. She'd only record the overtime spent on the day's receipts, she promised herself. The search would be on her own time.

~~~~~

 _Two years ago, two years ago…I'll go back three and come forward to make sure I don’t miss anything,_ Amy decided. She consulted the handwritten note. Jimmy P. or Jimmy Powell … Hartman. Could be James. Born September 19, 2004. Attended Richmond Elementary. Other names; places … Hartman, Hannah; Hartman, Hugh; Rossler, Lawton … Niki Johns. The paper picture, labeled _Jimmy - first grade_ on the back, showed a weedy little boy wearing a striped shirt. The picture had been folded many times but the features still stood out. He looked sad.

As she had hoped, Amy was able to access Leverage's case files. She had an uneasy feeling about doing it, but she was determined to solve this case by herself. It was simple; straightforward; surely the team wouldn't mind if she brought together two relatives cruelly separated from each other. It was the kind of thing she watched Parker, Hardison and Eliot do nearly every week. When Parker was literally saving her life from the thugs trying to kidnap her, she had told Amy how she had seen her resume; knew why Hardison had hired her. _He knew you were one of us_ , she had said. _People who have to help._ Ever since then Parker had relied upon her, even after her knee healed, to do things she knew Amy could do. Over time, Amy had been entrusted with more and more responsibility. Even Eliot had playfully punched her arm one day, calling her one of the team. She imagined Parker would be thrilled to know she had carried a case on her own.

However, a search such as she was capable of doing yielded nothing under any of the references her customer had provided. She had spent half the night on it, but it was a bust. She sighed. Her one shot at helping this man was gone. If he was going to get any satisfaction at all, she'd have to turn him over to the team. Disappointed, she was about to log off when a Skype window popped up in the top right corner of the screen. She hesitated. Her curiosity got the better of her. She clicked accept.

_'Hey, Hardison!'_

Amy, afraid she'd be caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, was about to click out of the window when she did a double take. She looked at the damaged picture and at the screen. Back at the picture and back at the screen. Once more to make sure. It was the boy! This was the boy the man was trying to locate. What were the odds of this happening?! The search had fallen right into her lap.

_'Hardison, you there? It's dark, I can't see you. Is your webcam on? Listen, Mom would kill me if she knew I was up this late but I had to tell ya - I'm going camping tomorrow with Chris at Greenleaf State Park over the weekend! It's gonna be awesome! Can't wait to tell you about it! Hardison? You there? Don't tell on me, ok?'_

'Um,' Amy said hesitantly, 'sorry, I'm not Hardison. I'm Amy, just using his computer. Can I give him a message for you?'

_'Sure. Just tell him Jimmy called. I'm going camping over the weekend. We usually Skype on weekends but he won't hear from me this time. We're going to Greenleaf State Park. I'm gonna be cut off from civilization for almost three whole days!!'_

'I'll tell him. Um…Jimmy…can I ask you something?'

_'What?'_

'Were you adopted, by any chance?'

_'Yeah, how'd you know?'_

'I … never mind. Listen, be careful, have fun, and I'll give Hardison your message.'

_'Don't tell my mom I was up this late!!'_

'I won't. 'Bye.'

_'See ya!'_

Amy logged out of Skype, Quicken, closed all windows and turned off the computer. She was of two minds about what she'd just done; accessing the company's computer over and above what her job required of her, yet thrilled that she seemed to have found someone's long-lost nephew. If she could help reunite a family - that was what was important here. She decided to be happy about it. Anyway, she didn't think she'd left anything behind to implicate herself, and she'd done her job besides. She picked up the deposit bag, locked it in the safe, went downstairs and locked the door to the brewpub. She wasn't due in to work until two. She'd wait to call the man in the morning. Right now she was going home to bed.

~~~~~

John and Helen Martin loaded the last of the camping equipment into their RV which was parked in the driveway in front of their spacious suburban home. Helen checked off the final items: tackle boxes, fishing poles, first aid kit, groceries, ice, swimming floats/air pump, mosquito spray, sleeping bags for the two boys. Their son Chris had invited his school friend Jimmy Spencer for the weekend; his parents warmly welcomed him and assured his parents they had everything Jimmy would need.

The school bus rumbled and squealed as it pulled up in front of the Martin home. Chris and Jimmy quickly disembarked and raced up the sloping driveway to the house.

Helen laughed at their youthful exuberance. 'Ready to go, guys? We planned on leaving the minute you got home, remember? Well, we'll grant you a bathroom break, but hurry,' she grinned.

'Can't we get a snack first?'

'On the road, gentlemen, on the road. _Mush_!'

While the boys were inside, John Martin stashed the trash can and locked the garage. The minute the boys emerged, he locked the house and set the alarm.

As the boys leapt into the RV and began buckling up, Helen asked Jimmy, 'You're not taking anything electronic, are you, hon? This is vacation time. Games and phones and iPods off limits. OK?'

'I left everything home!' Jimmy agreed, enthusiastically. 'Except some clothes in my backpack.'

'OK. Say, son, why didn't Jess come with you? I told your Mom you were both invited.'

'That's ok. He's going to a skating party tomorrow night. Somebody he knows from school who has a sister.'

'Ah,' Helen said, knowingly. 'Well, maybe next time. He's always welcome.'

'I brought my swimming trunks, too,' said Jimmy. 'Think we can swim?'

'Well, where we're going, the pool isn't open yet but there's a lake with a sand beach. We came prepared but I warn you, it’ll be chilly this time of year. Ever been to Greenleaf Park, Jimmy?'

'No, Ma'am, but I've been camping before. It was great!'

'It's a beautiful place, I think you'll like it if you like to camp. They have a public area with little cabins, but we like to take the RV beyond that and rough it. Cook outdoors, hike, swim - except like I told you, the water will be cold!'

'We don't mind!' the boys said in unison.

'Let's put your backpacks here.' Helen stashed the two bags in a rear compartment.

John completed his last minute check and climbed into the driver's seat. His jovial mood was infectious; he'd planned this trip months ago and was as eager as everyone else to get going. 'Buckle up, crew, because this ship is sailing!'

'Aye, Captain,' Helen and the boys chorused as the RV slowly backed down the driveway.

~~~~~

Hugh Hartman anxiously paced the floor of his motel room, chain-smoking, waiting for the phone call he hoped would close the gap in the search for his son. With proof the boy was alive, he had a better shot at being exonerated at the new trial. His lawyer was already laying the groundwork to dispute the video. He'd be a free man again.

He thought back over the last year he'd spent in prison. In the exercise yard and at meals, inmates chattered like magpies. Hartman had walked past a group of inmates talking and stopped to listen. One was telling a story of another inmate who'd known an inmate who'd been busted because of some kind of scam run on him. Infuriated, the others peppered him with questions. _How can that happen? What kind of scam?_

 _I don't know,_ said the inmate. _Said when he got here he tried to trace back what went down. Didn't have much luck but said he heard a lot of shit goes down at this Bridgeport Brew Pub place in Portland. There's people in league with the cops that work there, setting up sting operations or some such shit. Look, I don't know! This is third hand information, fool! The guy never knew how it all happened, he just ended up in here!_

Hartman, unaware that he himself had been on the end of one such operation, wandered away from the incensed chatter. Listening to men whine about how they got nabbed didn't interest him.

As time went on, however, other stories about the same brew pub organization captured his attention. One inmate in particular turned out to be a former client of the subversive group. Some years after they rescued his mother from kidnappers in another state, he committed vehicular manslaughter in Oregon and got five years. His was the most intriguing story of all. When Hartman engaged him in conversation and mentioned what he had heard from the other inmates; the young man refuted those claims, shaking his head. _Don't listen to them, man. Those brew pub people … they're like Robin Hood, you know? They go all over the country, working_ outside _the law to help people. They pick up where the law leaves off. They sure helped me and my dad!_

_You're sure they don't work with cops?_

_Listen, cops to them are like kryptonite to Superman. You been talkin' to the wrong people in here._

_Seems I have. So … you're saying that if somebody were to need a little help under the table, you know, on the outside …_

_What kind of help?_

_Never mind._

_Who is it? Somebody you know, or you?_

_Me. I'm out soon. How do I proceed? Who do I talk to?_

_Damned if I can remember anybody's name. Just go in there with your story_. Y _ou'll just have to feel it out, make it real sob stuff. Sorry I can't tell you any more than that._

It was enough. It was all Hartman needed to know.

~~~~~

Hartman stubbed his tenth cigarette and headed to the bathroom. When he came out the burner cell was ringing. _About damned time!_

'Mr. Hartman?'

It was the woman from the bar. 'Yes. Thanks, uh, thanks for calling. Do you have any information for me? Were you able to find out anything?'

'I'm going to make you a very happy man. I did find your nephew. I found Jimmy.'

'Hmmm,' Hartman said doubtfully. 'Mighty fast work. I've been trying to track him down for months. You sure it's him?'

'Yes, I'm sure.'

'Where, uh … where is he?'

'Well, I don't exactly have the address where he lives, but I know where he'll be this weekend.'

There was a pause.

'Miss? You say you know where he'll be this weekend?'

'He's going on a camping trip.'

Close to the end of his patience, Hartman forced a jovial tone into his voice. 'That sounds like fun. Perfect place for a surprise, don't you think?'

'Maybe. I guess. Just be sure you approach them gently, take some ID to prove who you are. Don't just spring it on them.'

'I wouldn't dream of startling my own nephew. You can trust me to be circumspect. Now, where is this place they're taking him? Out in the woods? At a park? At a campsite?'

'They'll be at Greenleaf State Park.'

Hartman laughed. 'It's been raining cats and dogs. Weird time to go camping if you ask me…'

'Maybe … weather's supposed to clear up, though, and it's less crowded this time of year.'

'Good. Now. What do I owe you for your trouble, Miss?'

'Um … don't worry about it,' said Amy. 'I don't usually - I mean, I just wanted to help. Who can charge for something like that?'

'Well, Amy, I want to thank you; you have no idea what you've done for me. Listen, can you keep this confidential? I'll call to tell you the outcome. Would you mind doing that for me?'

'Sure.'

'I have your word.'

'Yes, sure. It's between you and me. I'll be at this number. I'd like to hear how the reunion went.'

'The reunion is going to change my life … for the better,' said Hartman, and hung up. The next call he made was to book a flight to Tulsa.

~~~~~

There had been a time when Hugh Hartman wouldn't have considered booking anything but first class. Now stuck in coach, his nerves jangled like keys on a jogger's belt. Karma had been cruel and seated him in front of three little boys who kept up a steady chatter, jostling each other and kicking his seat. He'd enlisted the help of the harried flight attendant to no avail.

'I'm sorry, sir, we're completely booked or I would allow you to change seats. Their parents are behind them. I'll have a word.'

'Be sure you do. I paid for this flight and I expect some peace and quiet.'

The flight attendant, taken aback by the venom in the man's face, fell back on her professional training. 'I'll see what I can do, sir.' she said, graciously.

Hartman strained his ears to listen, as two rows back, the attendant whispered to the father of the rambunctious boys. Hartman heard the man make light of the situation.

'Boys will be boys, as they say. Besides, we only have another hour; the Captain said so.'

'Yes, but the gentleman in front of them is quite distressed. Can you please speak to your sons?'

The man nodded. He leaned forward and admonished the boys before resuming his conversation with his wife.

Hartman grumpily leaned back in his seat and attempted to take a short nap. Tulsa was an hour away. He'd have to rent a car, find out where this park was… Forcing his mind to relax, he closed his eyes.

The next minute he was on his feet, fists clenched, staring down menacingly at three frightened children. The senior flight attendant, who had been made aware of the situation and had been warily watching Hartman the whole time, stepped forward.

'Sir, you need to return to your seat, please.'

'You said you'd do something about these brats!'

The father rose from his seat and addressed Hartman. 'There's no need for name calling. They're just kids.'

'Kids who just dribbled spit in my hair!!' screamed Hartman, wiping his head with a handkerchief.

'I'm going to have to speak to the Captain unless you resume your seat, sir.'

Hartman, chest heaving in anger, considered. Less than an hour to Tulsa. He was cutting his own throat if he wanted to stick to plan. They could hold him once he got to the airport. He could miss his opportunity at that park altogether.

'All right. I apologize. I'm stressed out. I meant no offense.'

A few rows down the plane, a small, dark-complected man with a red turban got to his feet. 'Miss, if it please you and the gentleman, I will gladly swap seats with him. To promote harmony.'

'Is that all right with you, sir?' asked the attendant.

Hartman nodded in a surly fashion and exited his seat.

The turbaned man smiled at the children and sat down. The flight attendant smiled her thanks. With the situation diffused, she resumed her duties.

'Why do you wear that on your head?' asked one of the boys.

The man twisted in his seat. In a quiet but authoritative voice, he answered the child courteously. 'I am a Sikh. It is a religion. I am a very peaceful man. But do not attempt to dribble spit on my turban. If you do…I shall have to speak to your father.'

'Yes, sir.'

The boys were obligingly quiet for the remainder of the flight.

~~~~~

No one bothered Hartman as he left the plane. After an hour of being monitored by the flight attendant and intercepting surly looks from the father - the kids had refused to look at him - he half expected a police officer to be waiting at the end of the boarding ramp.

He'd have to watch himself now that he was out - that hair-trigger temper he's never been able to control would be his undoing. _Those damned brats - it was their fault. They needed a good pummeling_ , he thought to himself.

He shook it off and hurried to Baggage Claim. There he retrieved his one travel bag and asked directions to the nearest car rental agency. After a quick meal he was on the road in a new dark blue Ford Taurus, headed southeast for Greenleaf State Park, one hour away.

~~~~~

John Martin left the main road and pulled up in front of the main office. He returned presently, folding his wallet. He hung a color coded tag on the rearview mirror and continued down the one-way lane toward the lake, passing the cabins and playground on the right.

'You sure you boys don't want to stay in a concrete castle?' John teased.

'We're sure!' they chorused. Helen added her voice to the din. She liked roughing it, and she was accustomed to the RV bed. Who needed a hard cot when you could have a foam mattress?

John chose a secluded spot, drove down to the lake's sandy bank and carefully positioned the RV on a flat area surrounded by trees near the lake. He set the brake and turned the ignition off.

'We're here!'

The two boys cheered loudly.

'Boys,' Helen said, 'first things first. Let's all help get set up and then we'll talk about what we want to do first. Now look - there's a Port-a-Pottie over there or you can use the RV. John will spray for wasps.'

The boys eagerly scurried to help. Within the hour they had unpacked everything and set out fishing gear, lawn chairs and ice chests. There was no question what the first activity would be. The Martins lounged in aluminum lawn chairs, carefully watching their son Chris and Jimmy Spencer joyfully splashing in the shallows of the lake. There was a narrow stretch of sand between the grass and the water, and the wind whipped tiny whitecaps for the boys to jump over. Upon the sand were several small sandcastles, knee-deep holes and beach toys strewn about. As the day waned, it grew cooler. The high line of trees on the lake's western side were catching the sun's rays, preventing light and warmth to reach those in the water or on the land. With the exception of a lone car, a dark blue Ford Taurus that slowly passed behind the RV, there wasn't another soul around; most of the few who visited the park this time of year were in the cabins with the fireplaces going. The Martins were far more adventurous, even though the air was growing cooler with each minute that passed.

'Boys,' Helen called. Come on in. It's getting dark.'

'Aw, Mom!'

'Just another minute, Mrs. Martin!'

' _Now_ , boys. Unless you want me to throw these hot dogs away…'

They scampered out of the water.

'Bring the beach toys in,' called John.

Helen handed an enormous beach towel to each boy. 'Try to knock all the sand off that you can before you come in.'

She entered the RV and set out everything they'd need for dinner on the small table. Once seated, the boys ate ravenously. Over dinner, they talked about sleeping arrangements.

'We have room in here, guys, but I thought you'd like a special treat.'

'What?'

'How would you like to sleep in the tent tonight?'

'WOULD we?' The boys slapped a high five in glee.

'OK, after dinner Dad will set it up. You can sleep on the big air mattress float and we have plenty of blankets. It's screened but you might need some bug spray.'

'Can we have it out in the woods?'

Helen made a face. 'I think it would be better if you stayed close to the RV. Just to be safe.'

Crestfallen, the boys agreed.

'Don't worry, it'll still feel like you're out in the woods. And you can hear the water on the lake lapping. Lull you right to sleep. OK?'

'OK. Can we have one more hot dog? And a coke?'

'I don't see why not,' smiled Helen.

~~~~~

Hugh Hartman turned into the main entrance to Greenleaf Park. He had no idea how he was going to spot Jimmy and he wasn't even sure he'd be here. He was going on hearsay. He didn't know if he'd recognize him. After all, he _was_ two years older.

One thing was in his favor; there were no more than seven cars parked in front of the rental cabins. Most of the families were outside playing ball or on the swing sets. The fathers milled around or sat in chairs; the mothers were likely inside cooking.

As he drove past, he carefully observed the children out of the corner of his eye. Wouldn't do to arouse suspicion. He wasn't a pedophile after all; he was a father after his own son. Still, he must be careful.

The one lane blacktop ran a circle around the cabins with two that forked off into the woods. There were also dirt paths leading into the forest here and there. _Mountain bikes or hikers_ , he thought. _I'll keep circling and if anyone asks, I'm meeting somebody and I'm lost. That'll do it._

Three times around. No sign of Jimmy, and he'd looked carefully at every kid he saw. Driving slowly, he was indeed raising awareness. One burly guy waved him down. 'You lost, Mister?'

'Sort of. I'm supposed to meet my brother here. Are there more cabins around?'

'Nope - these are all they have. A lot of people bring RVs and pop-ups, though. Didn't he tell you where they'd be?'

'If he did, I forgot. A lot on my mind.'

'Huh. Well, follow the road to the right, it's one way - it goes down to the lake and skirts back around. They might be down there in an RV. How the hell do you expect to find…'

Hartman waved the man off and drove away. He took the right fork and vanished into the forest.

~~~~~

Chris Martin snuggled under the worn but warm quilt. Sandwiched between two such, suspended above the tent floor and hard ground beneath by the air mattress, cold night breezes wafting through the screened sides, he whispered to his companion. 'This is BOSS, ain't it, Jimmy?'

'Yeah! Hey, you got a flashlight? We can make a blanket tent and have some light to read by. I brought some comic books.'

'Naw - I think Mom wants us to go to sleep. We keep this up and she'll be hollering through the door.'

'Well, we can talk, anyway. Today was awesome! Thanks for bringing me.'

'Sure. We'll have more fun tomorrow. Dad told me about a place on the lake where it's deeper and there's a rope swing. We might take the RV down there tomorrow.'

_'Sweet!'_

'It's getting pretty cold. Are you warm enough?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Glad your mom let us sleep in our clothes.'

'Yeah.'

'Your parents are so cool. Mine are, too - my new ones, anyway.'

'They sure are. Hey, next time we're at your place, let's ask your mom to let us camp out in the yard. We can use this tent.'

'Awesome idea.'

'Think she'll let us?'

Jimmy yawned. 'I think so…'

The boys' chatter grew less frequent as drowsiness overtook them. Worn out by a day on the water, they were soon sound asleep.

~~~~~

There he is … _there he is!_ Hartman couldn't believe his eyes. He was slowly bypassing a lone RV parked below the level of the road. Here, the road followed a narrow, high ridge while a gravel path took a vehicle down to the narrow beach at the level of the lake. He had a clear view from this angle. Two adults were watching a small boy and a larger one playing in the water. The body language of one of the boys was familiar; Jimmy always reminded him of a young Jerry Lewis. The stiff-armed, spinning, dorky way he had of scampering about was very reminiscent of the actor's _schtick_.

Hartman had to be more certain than he was now.

He took the car about 30 yards on up the narrow road. Here he would not be seen; the RV was between him and the adults, and if he got higher he could see the kids in the lake. He got out and climbed on the roof, scratching the paint. _Screw the rental company's edicts!_ Using a cheap pair of binoculars he peered through the foliage. He watched for many minutes, checking the road behind to make sure no other cars followed. _Two years older and he hasn't grown much…still a puny runt. Who are those people, I wonder? Is he in foster care or did he really get adopted? Who the hell cares. He's my kid and I want him back._

Hartman climbed down off the car, got in and drove on down the narrow road which curved to the left. He parked in an empty camping space to wait. At dusk he'd drive back around the loop, park above the RV and wait for an opportunity to grab Jimmy; a plan that was all guesswork, but if Hugh Hartman had a talent, it was thinking on his feet. He'd get Jimmy. Of that he was sure.

~~~~~

A full bladder woke Jimmy from a sound sleep. He changed position, not wanting to go outside. It didn't work; he _had_ to go. He found himself wishing there was a cup or something in the tent to go in, but there wasn't. He came out from under the covers, reluctantly, because the wind was picking up, blowing chilly air through the tent. The sky was dark; the moon intermittently veiled by thick, roiling clouds. He hurriedly felt for his sneakers and pulled them on without lacing them. Carefully, so as to not wake up his buddy, Jimmy felt for the door zipper and moved it down. He didn't want to risk waking the Martins by going inside the RV so he headed for where he thought the Port-a-Pottie was. The clouds parted, making it easier for him to see.

~~~~~

The dark blue Ford blended well with the surroundings. Hugh Hartman, sitting at the wheel with the door open, had been watching the camp for hours, weighing his options. He had seen the man put up the tent and watched as the woman knelt inside, making up the beds. The boys gleefully entered their small domain and the parents went back inside the RV. Hartman was growing tired of waiting. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

A storm was building. _Rotten luck. No, maybe not. Thunder would mask sounds._ The moon bravely broke through moisture-laden cumulous banding together to drop their load. In the brief glow of the moon, Hartman suddenly saw a small boy worm out of the tent and head for the Port-a-Potty. _Gotta take a piss_ , Hartman thought. _This is what I've been waiting for. Not a minute too soon, either._ The small structure he had seen earlier was at least thirty feet from the camper. A stand of trees was between it and where Hartman had parked the car. _Perfect timing. Perfect motherfucking timing._ He couldn't believe his luck. Hartman got out of the car and quietly opened the spacious trunk of the Ford. Then he made his way down the slope to stand behind the Port-a-Pottie door.

As Jimmy emerged, Hartman clapped a hand over the boy's mouth and picked him up bodily with his free arm. In seconds Hartman climbed the slope and threw Jimmy into the trunk. One of his untied sneakers went flying. Hartman roughly pushed the struggling boy to the back of the spacious trunk and clicked the lid closed. He leapt into the car and started the engine. The storm was building fast; a thunderclap drowned out Jimmy's cries as he was whisked away into the night.

~~~~~

That same thunderclap awoke Helen Martin. 'Boys!' she yelled through the door. 'Wake up! Come in, it's going to rain!!'

Chris popped awake and went to shake Jimmy's shoulder. The quilt was flat. 'Jimmy?' Chris felt around in the dark. No Jimmy. His comics were in the corner but his shoes were gone. Chris hurriedly put his on.

'Mom,' he called, 'is Jimmy in there with you?'

'No.'

'Are you sure?!'

'Yes, I'm sure, otherwise why would I tell you both to come in? Hurry - it's starting to rain!'

Chris was going over every inch of the darkened tent again. Rain began tapping on its roof. 'Mom, can you bring me a flashlight?'

'Coming, but why do you need a flashlight? Can't you see to come in?'

'No, Mom, I can't find Jimmy. Jimmy's not here.'

'What do you mean, he's not there?!'

'He's not in the tent, Mom!! Let me have the flashlight.'

Helen handed her son the large flashlight and Chris aimed its powerful beam into the quivering tent. He darted out of the tent and set off to search the area.

'Chris! Wait for your father! Don't go far! Can't have both of you wandering off!'

As the wind picked up, making it hard to hear, the family fought panic as they searched high and low, calling Jimmy's name as loud as they could yell. John took the flashlight from Chris. 'Go in the house with your mother.'

'But, Dad!'

'I said go in the house!'

Chris was sobbing. Helen held her son's shoulders. 'Don't worry - your Dad will find him. I don't know what made him leave the tent but he probably lost his way in the dark. Come on - let's get out of the rain.'

Thunder rumbled and a crackle of lightning illuminated Helen's agonized expression as she guided her distraught son to shelter.

John Martin's bill cap served him well, keeping the rain from blinding him. With the powerful flashlight, he searched again those areas already covered by the family. He spotted something they'd missed - sneaker footprints, nearly obliterated by the rain, leading to the stand of trees beyond which was the unlit Port-a-Potty. Of course - he just went to the bathroom. Somewhat heartened, John struck out in the direction of the small structure. He called the child's name. _He can't hear me over the rain and thunder, and he's afraid to come out and get soaked._ 'Jimmy!' he called loudly. He was nearly to the Port-a-Potty. _Surely he can hear me now. Why doesn't he answer?_

John reached the small fiberglas structure. The door stood open. There was no sign of Jimmy. Panic again threatened to take over, but John methodically kept searching. _He got lost. No light…rain…he got lost. He's here somewhere. Just keep looking._

To the left, the terrain gently dipped down to border the lake, overgrown with thorny brush. It didn't seem likely that Jimmy would have gone in that direction. To the right was a gentle slope that led up to the one-lane road. John made his way upward, slipping and sliding in the mud. The small graveled shoulder offered him firm footing and he stepped onto the blacktop. He shone the flashlight up and down the road then aimed the beam of light into the forest on the other side. Screaming the child's name at the top of his lungs, he fought the panic that was making his heart thump in his chest. He ran along the road in both directions, playing the flashlight beam over every inch of ground. Something white was lying in the brush about ten feet away. John ran to the object and picked it up.

It was Jimmy's sneaker.

~~~~~

The roar of a torrential downpour partially obscured Jimmy's thumps and yells in the trunk of the car. Hugh Hartman ignored both, too intent on getting as far as he could from the campground as fast as possible. To Hartman's relief, Jimmy finally fell silent - although the rain continued.

Taking winding back roads instead of the highway had been a good idea although it made the trip back to Tulsa longer. So far, no sirens, no flashing lights. He was alone on the road. How best to proceed once he got to the airport now occupied his thoughts. Taking Jimmy on a plane might prove problematic if he didn't behave. A kid under 18 needed no identification, just a boarding pass. This particular kid just needed to keep his mouth shut and do as he was told.

Although taking the boy by force had been necessary, he would need the his cooperation if he was going to get him back to Portland to use as evidence in his case. He had to keep the kid under control; regain his trust so he'd make a good showing with the jury. With Jimmy present, Hartman's lawyer would have a powerful tool to use in his new trial.

The sky was getting lighter. Hartman turned onto a farm road that led to the main highway north to Tulsa. Just past the intersection, he spotted a small motel. While Jimmy was quiet, it was a good time to stop for food and a rest. He pulled into the driveway of the small, rather seedy establishment. Once he got the key, he drove down the row of small cabins to the last one. The room was stuffy. He turned the heat on low, went back to the car and cautiously opened the trunk of the car, ready to catch Jimmy if he tried to escape.

~~~~~

John Martin, shaken, returned to the RV. 'Leave everything where it is, we're going to the front office. We've got to call 911.'

'…and the Spencers…' Helen whispered shakily.

Helen hung on to the arms of her seat as John gunned the RV up the slope to the road. He didn't take the longer one-way around; he set his high beams and drove the wrong way through the pouring rain back to the office. Helen looked back at her son; Chris was curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing.

The RV skidded to a stop in front of the main office. John burst through the door. Helen, cradling her distraught son in her arms, heard him yell at the night clerk.

'I got an emergency, man! I need to report a kidnapping! Call 911! NOW!'

The rain let up while John was inside. By the time he came out it had slowed to a drizzle. Despite the weather and the remote location, two police car sirens could be heard in the distance within thirty minutes. Helen watched John nervously running his fingers through his hair as he paced up and down outside the office. The night clerk came out with a cup of coffee in his hand; John shook his head.

'I'll take it,' called Helen from the vehicle. The night clerk handed her the coffee, making sure her shaking hands had a good grip on it before he released it. He patted her shoulder.

The Muskogee County Sheriff's Department is coming, Ma'am. They've issued an Amber Alert. They're going to want a picture of your son; do you have one?'

'He's…he's not my son. He was with us on our camping trip. He's my son's friend. He…he was just visiting!' she broke down, sobbing.

'Try not to worry…here they are. I'll be inside if you need anything.'

'Thank you.'

The lights from two vehicles and their flashers were headache-inducing. Helen watched four uniformed officers approach her husband. She told Chris to stay in his seat and left the vehicle to join them.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~~~

Hartman needn't have worried about Jimmy bolting; he lay curled into a ball on the carpeted floor of the trunk. Rain had seeped in; Jimmy's clothes were damp. He was so exhausted that despite this discomfort, he was sleeping soundly. He didn't feel Hartman lift him out and carry him inside. Hartman placed him on the double bed and flipped a corner of the bedspread over him. He'd let him sleep a while, then wake him up for dinner - and a talk. Hartman bolted the door, picked up the phone and ordered a pizza.

When delivered, the pizza wafted its aroma around the small room. Jimmy came to awareness when his stomach rumbled. His bladder was full, too. He waited warily under the bedspread a few minutes before peeking out. He was in a motel room and there was a man with his back turned toward him, leaning over a small table and placing pizza slices on both sides of an open box. The bathroom door was open and the light was on. Jimmy flung the cover aside and darted for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door.

Hartman looked over his shoulder. 'Jimmy? Come on out, son.'

Jimmy flushed the toilet and gripped the edge of the sink, shivering. He was damp from the rain; his one shoe muddy and sodden. _Who was that? Where was he and why had this man taken him?_ The man's voice was strangely familiar.

'Got some dinner waiting for you. Come on, before it gets cold. There's no microwave to heat it back up.'

The voice didn't sound scary, and his stomach was doing cartwheels. He was so hungry and cold! What could he do, locked in the bathroom? What would Mom and Dad want him to do if they were here? He thought back to when his Dad first put him on a tall horse. _You're all right, son. Be brave. I'm right here_. Well, his dad wasn't here but he could be brave, at least. Until he could figure out what was going on, maybe try to get away from this man…

Jimmy cautiously unlocked the door, half expecting the knob to be torn out of his hand by a snarling monster.

The man was seated at the table, eating a slice of pizza. Two motel cups had been set at each place, each filled from a liter of Pepsi. The man looked up and smiled at him. Jimmy ducked his head.

'Jimmy. Hey, Jimmy! Sorry … God, I'm sorry I had to do that, son. I had to … hey … look at me, boy. Don't you remember me?'

Jimmy looked warily up at the man. His eyes grew wide as he solemnly nodded. He didn't know whether to feel relief or terror. It wasn't a kidnapper after all, it was his own father. Memories of past abuses, including the last time he saw his father, came flooding back, causing him tremble all over.

'Aw Jimmy, relax. It's me, your own Dad. I just … look, last time I saw you … well, we'll forget about that. Everything's all right now. You don't need to be afraid. Look, I went away and got some help and I'm a different person now. I promise I won't hurt you again. Not ever again.'

The man's voice was quiet, soft, persuasive. Jimmy kept his head down.

'You gotta believe me, son. Listen, remember Niki? She is _gone_. No more Niki. Ever. She was the trouble in our lives but she's gone now and things are gonna be different with just you and me. We're gonna have a good life, a better life. When I got out of the … that hospital, I realized how much I needed my son. And I found you had been taken away from me. I missed you so much, Jimmy!'

Hartman got to his feet and tentatively approached the boy. He bent and put his arms out for a hug. The boy stiffened, but then he relaxed enough to allow his dad's embrace. He wanted to believe. All this time he had hated his father and had wanted him banned from his life but now something in him wanted to believe; this was his own father. He wanted to trust, but still, some gut instinct told him to be cautious. He shook his head and backed away from his father's arms.

'I … I'm in a new family now, Dad. I need to go back to them.' Jimmy tensed for the blow he was sure to follow that statement.

But there was no blow.

 _'They're_ not your family,' Hartman said. _'I am_ , blood kin, and I've been looking for you for two long years. Don't you want to come back with me? We could have such a good life, son! Besides, I need your help. I do. I really do need your help.'

Jimmy looked up at his father curiously.

'That's right. I have some business in Portland, back home, and I need you to help me with it. We can fly up, take care of things and then …'

'If … if I help you can I go back to my new family? They're gonna be worried. They don't know where I am now. Can I go back?'

Hartman looked crestfallen. 'Well … sure, if you want to that badly. I was hoping you'd stay with me, but after you help me, I'll bring you back if that's what you want so much. How's that? Do we have a bargain?'

Hartman held out his hand. Jimmy hesitated, then shook with his father, remembering what his Uncle Eliot had taught him. _You don't want to squeeze, son. Not like that. Grip firm. That's it. Just that brief contact will tell someone a lot about you - what kind of a man you are._ His father's handshake felt weird.

'Will you..please…call the Spencers so they won't worry?'

'Sure I will. Give me the number. I'll call them right after we eat. Come on! Pizza's getting cold! Here, wrap this towel around you to keep warm. We'll go get you some new clothes and shoes. How's that?'

Jimmy managed a small smile as he nodded. He sat down at the table and tackled his half of the large pizza.

'We're going to fly back to Portland. Ever been on an airplane, Jimmy?'

'Yes, sir. Once.'

'Then you know how it's done, don't you? They got rules, you know. You gotta be quiet. Real quiet, son, 'cause they don't like kids making noise and jumping around. I'll get you some comic books. You let me do all the talking; you just sit in your seat and read your books. All right? Don't say nothing to nobody.'

Jimmy nodded dutifully, but there was something in his father's voice that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Two years couldn't quite erase memories of when he'd heard that tone - his father trying to hold his temper in; trying to be patient but some demon got the best of him. After two years, Jimmy wondered if his father had a handle on that demon.

Later, while Jimmy was soaking in a warm bath, he heard his father through the door, calling his Mom and Dad. Hartman was talking loudly enough that Jimmy could hear him over the trickle of water from the faucet: _Yeah, hi, is this Mr. Spencer? Yeah, I just wanted to let you know that your son is fine, he's with me._ There was a pause. _Yeah, I'm his father._ Another pause. _No, no, not to worry, he's just fine. Is it ok for me to take him to Portland for a few days? Yeah, just for a quick visit. I'll have him back to you in no time._ A pause. _Sure, here's my number: 405-854-7981. That's really nice of you. Sure. Thanks a lot. I will. 'Bye._

Hartman grinned as he dropped his hand - which he had facetiously held in a phone-like position against his ear - to the table to pick up the empty pizza box. He viciously crunched the cardboard structure until it was small enough to fit in the wastebasket.

~~~~~

An Oklahoma state-wide Amber Alert went out immediately; John and Helen Martin had given an accurate description of Jimmy, including what he had been wearing. The Spencer family was at the scene, comforting the Martins as best they could. Jimmy had now been missing for over thirty hours. All that could be done was being done. The authorities gently suggested to John and Jake that the two families should return to their homes and wait it out. The two men reluctantly agreed.

Seated in the RV with Jennifer and the boys, Helen saw the campground night clerk approach her husband, who nodded. They shook hands and the clerk went back inside. Everyone seemed to be disbursing; the police cars had gone and Jake was getting into his car. John climbed into the driver's seat of the RV.

'What -' Jennifer began.

'We all need to go home, Jennifer. Nothing else we can do here. Helen, they'll keep the equipment we left in storage. Jennifer, would you like to ride with us and let Jake follow?'

Too distraught to think, Jennifer merely nodded and took a seat in the back. John flashed his lights at Jake, who waved them forward. He would follow.

'Buckle up, boys,' John directed.

'Jake and I thought it might be best if you all stayed at our house, at least for a few nights. Is that ok, Jennifer?'

Jennifer nodded again, wiping tears from her face. Helen handed her a tissue. The RV lurched as it pulled out onto the road.

In the car behind the RV Jake Spencer, after careful consideration, made a decision. He would not tell his brother what had happened. Not just yet. The authorities had acted quickly and efficiently; there was a good chance the police would get Jimmy back. Alive.

If Eliot knew now, all hell could break loose.

~~~~~

Hardison, back in town with Eliot the previous night, let his employees handle the Saturday morning brunch crowd at the Bridgeport Brew Pub. He sat down at his big laptop; the ever-present orange soda at his elbow and a dish of multi-colored gummy bears nearby. He tossed back a handful. Time for his weekend Skype session with his little buddy. Hardison had promised to show him a _Modded_ version of Minecraft that included maps and characters based on Star Trek.

The Leverage team had kept in close contact with Jimmy since his adoption. Eliot approved of the geeky brotherhood his partner and his nephew enjoyed, with their games, virtual fishing and Minecraft. Still, he nagged Hardison about the amount of time he and the boy spent on the computer, as he had just the previous week:

 _'You goin' at it_ **again** _, Hardison?!'_

_'Just watch how you word that, Bra'...'_

_Steam vented from Eliot's ears. 'Dammit … Hardison … I don't mean it_ that _way! I'm tellin' ya to get that kid off the computer! Tell him I said to go outside! Go throw some passes with Jess!' Eliot stalked into the kitchen, still muttering, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. 'Only reason he shouldn't be outside is if he's in school, if it's hailing, there's a blizzard or a tornado's about to touch down!!' On and on, his gruff voice faded into the distance._

_Jimmy had heard most of the exchange over Skype: 'Is Uncle Eliot bitching again, Hardison?'_

_Hardison bugged his eyes at the boy. 'Shhhhh! You ain't supposed to say dat! Don't you worry, m'man, he does his thang, we does our thang. 'Sides, you know what? Eliot don't know they usin' Minecraft nowadays to teach math, science and programmin'. I'm just lettin' you know what's out there. Later on you can decide whether you wanna work with yo' brain or yo' muscles…that'll be up to you!'_

~~~~~

Hardison grinned, remembering how fast Jimmy was catching on to basic programming. He figured it was worth an hour or two…or three…sometimes more…a week. Eliot could just get over it.

He logged into Skype and waited, playing Solitaire until Jimmy came on. Minutes passed. The level of the orange soda in the bottle steadily dropped. Hardison checked the time. He'd been waiting nearly an hour. _Oh, well_ , shrugged the Hacker, _maybe he_ was _out playing football. That'd make Eliot happy…maybe make the man crack a smile…_

With Skype running in the background, Hardison checked the Quicken accounts. Business had been good while he and Eliot were gone. Everything looked to be in order. _Nice to leave the pub in capable hands. I only hire the best_ , he thought, smiling.

Just as he got up to fix himself a sandwich, the computer pinged. A security software window popped up. No cause for concern…sometimes Parker used his laptop; occasionally the staff recorded receipts; on rare occasions Eliot used it. Very rarely. The man hated computers.

Upon examination, however, he grew concerned. The remote security features he had installed on the laptop - programs to register keystrokes, a screen capture application that activated whenever the computer was opened, and a webcam that was programmed to turn on and snap a photo or record video of anyone who used the device - had registered some unusual activity. Hardison checked the screen recordings and the webcam, his brow furrowing. If he was in the mood for pop culture jokes, which he certainly was not at the moment, he might say his _spidey sense_ was tingling.

 _Wait, back it up. Was that Jimmy he saw? Yep. Jimmy on Skype. Recorded. But who was he talking to?_ He turned up the volume and heard the unmistakable voice of Amy Palavi, his best waitress.

He played the recording again. _'Hardison, you there? It's dark, I can't see you. Listen, Mom would kill me if she knew I was up this late but I had to tell ya - I'm going camping tomorrow with Chris at Greenleaf State Park over the weekend! It's gonna be awesome! Can't wait to tell you about it! Hardison? You there? Don't tell on me, ok?'_

So that's why Jimmy didn't show today. But why was Amy talking to Jimmy? Why did she ask Jimmy if he was adopted? Hardison sat back, fingers templed, playing scenarios in his mind. Amy had been entrusted to enter receipts before and had done a good job. Why, and why _now_ , would she access anything other than the software she was supposed to be using? Why would she be searching these websites? For all intents and purposes, it looked like she was trying to trace something on Jimmy; there were the old names connected to the boy, names he never thought he'd see again. Why was she trying to search this information? Hardison had carefully scrubbed every file that connected Jimmy to Leverage or his bastard of a father, so for whatever reason Amy was trying to track Jimmy, she wouldn't get anywhere. Still, in the back of his mind an old Star Wars line echoed: _I've got a bad feeling about this…_

Amy wasn't due in to work today but something like this couldn't wait. He dialed her home number. He'd never called an employee on the carpet before but there was always a first time. He'd get her here in person and find out what the hell was going on. Depending on what she had to say, he was going to have a _strong_ talk about breaching information on company computers …or, alternatively… well, he hated to fire her. She'd been one of his best. Plus, remembering back, Parker might have gotten herself killed if it hadn't been for Amy's help, even if she _was_ the target Parker'd been trying to protect. Maybe a more restrictive software was in order. A weekly employee meeting. Instigating and enforcing a company policy. Rules and regulations. Hardison sighed. This gig was getting to be too much like the Establishment…

~~~~~

Amy arrived shortly after Hardison's call. From the tone of his voice on the phone she wasn't sure what to expect. She tapped on the frosted glass door of his office. No one answered. Hesitantly, she opened the door. Hardison wasn't at his desk. Amy took a deep breath and decided to sit and wait for him.

Suddenly, from another room beyond where Amy sat waiting came the unmistakably guttural roar of Eliot Spencer. His heavy footsteps reverberated in the hall. Something was very wrong. She heard Hardison's swift feet catch up to him. Behind the thick, frosted glass, both figures appeared as shadows but Amy could hear them clearly.

'...that's what Jake told me, Hardison!  On the phone!  Just now!'

'But who would take _just him_ , Eliot? Them people said the boys were together. Who would take him and not the other kid? That don't make sense, man,' Hardison was saying.

'This wasn't a random act, Hardison,' Eliot shot back. 'They were after Jimmy. My nephew was targeted. I'd bet the farm on it. I don't know how it went down, but my gut tells me somebody nabbed Jimmy for a reason.'

Jimmy. Amy's hands gripped the sofa; her eyes grew wide. _Jimmy!_ She thought back to the Skype session she'd intercepted. That boy was Jimmy and he knew Hardison. He was _Eliot's_ nephew? Then to whom had she given the information? Could it even be the same boy? _Let's not panic_ , she told herself. _Go out there and tell them what you know. It's a common name…maybe it's a different Jimmy…_

Amy stood up, pulled her skirt straight, and opened the door. Hardison's dark face told her all she needed to know.

'Mr. Hardison,' Amy quavered, first glancing at Eliot then addressing her boss, 'I…I need to tell you something.'

~~~~~

A half hour later, Eliot held a private conference with Hardison in Nate's old office. The team - Hardison, Parker and Eliot - had kept it the way he left it years ago, after he and Sophie moved on to greener, retired pastures. The worn leather couch and ubiquitous wet bar gave comfort when on cold nights they could build a fire and watch _Old Nate_ smirk at them from his perch above the mantel.

Amy had told Hardison and Eliot the whole truth about what she had done, trying unsuccessfully to quell her sobs. The two men had listened, each standing with arms folded. When she finished, Hardison told her to resume her wait in the office. She was glad to do so if only to escape Eliot's murderous gaze. He had just received the gut-wrenching news of Jimmy's abduction from his brother and was in no mood for tears or apologies.

Back in Oklahoma, Jake Spencer had given in to his worst fears and finally called his brother. Time was against them; everyone involved knew this. Each hour that passed reduced the chance that Jimmy would be found. The police, he knew, were doing their best…still, they were bound by procedures; by rules and regulations, and overloaded with cases. Eliot was bound by nothing. Maybe the time had come to play it fast and loose. Maybe it was time to relent and let his brother handle it.

Eliot reviewed the information on Hardison's computer. His lightning mind was already making a plan. 'Hardison, I need you to run scenarios. Get the background on Hartman. He's the key; he's the one that took Jimmy. See what he's been up to, maybe that'll tell us where he's headed. Get everything you can on the son of a bitch. Bastard's _supposed_ to be in prison. I'll have my earbud in at all times.'

Hardison nodded. 'What are you gonna do, Eliot?'

The Hitter thrust his arms into his jacket sleeves and stuffed his leather gloves in the pocket. He withdrew a black knit cap and pulled it down over his hair. 'I'm goin' after him. You track him for me, I'll sniff him out. One thing the cops ain't got, Hardison…that's you.'

'But Eliot, _you_ lookin' for 'im' … _they_ lookin' for 'im… What if you cross paths? You know that ain't good, bra…'

'One more thing, Hardison,' Eliot snarled menacingly, ignoring the Hacker's warning.

'What?'

Eliot stabbed his finger toward Hardison. 'I want you to fire that girl.'

Eliot turned on his heel and stalked away.

'Aw, man…' Hardison looked after him helplessly. It wasn't something he really wanted to do. He considered a minute. He went to the door of his office and opened it. Amy was sitting on the edge of her seat; face streaked with tears. He couldn't do it. Not right now.

'Amy…'

'Yes, sir?'

'Go on home. We'll talk about this later. OK?'

'But…'

'Naw, just go on home. It's ok. Take a couple of days off. I'll call you.'

'Yes, sir.'

~~~~~

Eliot's mind raced as he ran to the parking garage and flung himself into the seat of his orange Dodge Challenger. He had to get to Oklahoma. He checked the gas gauge, threw the car into reverse then accelerated, leaving a trail of rubber all the way to the street. Despite being livid with anger, he was able to disseminate that anger to focus on Hartman. What had been his motive? Hartman had been in prison in Oregon. Jimmy was in Oklahoma. Jake kept in touch with Eliot regularly since Jimmy's adoption and nothing by letter, or phone call had indicated that Jimmy was anywhere else. Therefore Hartman had to have nabbed Jimmy in Oklahoma. _Why in hell was he out of prison??_ Eliot took the freeway toward Portland International Airport. _C'mon, Hardison! I need something to go on!_

Hardison had never worked so hard nor so fast. Information poured in from his nimble fingertips, vital information that would hopefully lead Eliot straight to Jimmy's captor. When he had constructed as much of a picture as he could, he related the information to Eliot, who was parking his car at the airport.

Flashing his Air Marshal's badge, Eliot had no difficulty securing a seat on the next flight to Tulsa. He would land in five hours; eleven hours Oklahoma time after Jimmy's abduction. Hardison kept sending as much intel as he could dig up through his earbud* as it became available: _Yo' family and the Martins are at home waiting, Eliot…Hartman got out of prison, all right…tell you about that in a minute…he booked a flight from Portland to Tulsa_. Hardison relayed the flight schedule to Eliot.

'Rental car, Hardison,' Eliot growled softly into his earbud. Luckily, his seatmates were both snoring softly and heard nothing.

_Got it right here, Eliot. It's a dark blue Ford Taurus. Here's the license plate number._

Eliot jotted the number down and pocketed the small notebook he carried. When Eliot heard Hardison say that the _Multnomah Innocence Project_ was involved, he clenched his jaw. _Damn bleeding heart liberals with their_ _pro bono legal services clogging up the courts. Fine for somebody truly wrongly accused but that didn't happen that often. Too many convicts assisted by defense lawyers were flocking to their doors to get their 'wrongful' convictions overturned._

Eliot sat back in his seat, reviewing in his mind all he knew about the case. Back to Square One: what had been the real reason behind Helen Hartman's abuse and subsequent murder? As the plane sped him to his destination, an idea occurred to him; an angle to the case that apparently, no one had thought of before. It warranted a quick stop after he landed.

'I'm gonna try to catch up to him before he gets back to the airport, Hardison. You find anything else, get it to me quick.'

He heard the Hacker in his ear. _How do you know he'll head back? He could be goin' anywhere._

'Followin' a hunch, Hardison. Lotta hunches about this.'

_May all your hunches be right._

'Just keep the intel coming.'

~~~~~

Jimmy's silence and his submissive cooperation had been encouraging to Hartman. The kid would be easy to handle, getting through the airport and back to Portland, where his lawyer could put them up until the new trial; if not, the _Multnomah Project_ had offered shelter. It was all falling into place.

Wearing a new shirt and shoes, Jimmy sat buckled into the seat next to his father, gazing out the window at a dark world. He could see only the lights reflected from the dashboard. Though but less than two hours straight drive from Greenleaf Park, Hartman's detours and an overnight stop had stretched the trip to the Tulsa airport to more than a day. Jimmy's nerves grew tauter with each hour; each passing mile. He was being driven into an unknown future. Only out of fear had he remained cooperative.

He thought of his family and ached to be back with them. Stifling a sniffle, he wondered what Jess was doing - Mom and Dad - Uncle Eliot. At the thought of his uncle, he found himself longing for his hero. When but eight years old he had watched in fearful amazement as a long-haired, leather-jacketed superhero had come barreling around a grocery store display case to deck the man who had laid his cheek open. The punishment he had suffered that night had happened so many times in his young life, but no one had ever come to his rescue. Not one…until his own personal Batman showed up. He wanted him to appear now so much his heart hurt. Like a magic incantation, he whispered over and over, hoping his Uncle Eliot could somehow hear him: _Batman, come get me; Batman, Batman…_

'What are you saying?' barked Hartman.

The boy, startled out of his reverie, answered in a small voice. 'Nothing, sir.'

'You need to keep quiet while I'm driving. In fact, keep quiet until we get back home. Do you remember what I told you?'

'Yes, sir, but…'

'Jimmy, I'm your father, and I'm telling you to _shut up_. I'll _tell you_ when you can say something. Are we clear?'

Tears pouring down his face, Jimmy merely nodded. His stomach hitched. He took a deep breath but the feeling only got worse. A sour taste rose in the back of his throat. Fearfully, he broke his silence. 'Sir?'

'Boy, you don't _listen_! What is it _now_?!'

'I'm sorry, but I need to go to the bathroom.'

'You went just fifteen minutes ago.'

'No…I mean…I'm feeling carsick. Please. I have to throw up. Please!'

'Shit,' said Hartman.

He slowed, took the nearest highway exit and stopped the car alongside a vacant field. 'Get out, do your business and hurry the hell up.'

Jimmy unlatched the car door.

Hartman rolled down the window as Jimmy got out of the car. 'Stay in sight!' he yelled.

Jimmy stepped back toward the rear tire and bent over, vomiting. When he straightened up, Hartman was looking out the other side of the window. Jimmy took his chance and bolted. He didn't even feel the barbed wire from the fence slicing his arm as he rolled under it, got to his feet and ran into the field for all he was worth. There was another field in the distance, full of some kind of high grass. If he could reach that he could hide in it, all night if he had to. Maybe that man - Jimmy couldn't think of him as his father - would just forget about it and go off and leave him. He could walk to the next town, find a phone and call Uncle Eliot. He knew it was dangerous for him to be alone out in the middle of nowhere, but if he had to pick a danger, he'd pick that over staying with the man.

While Hartman waited, he lit a cigarette and smoked furiously. _Damn kid's more trouble than he's worth. He's served his purpose once I'm cleared…who needs that aggravation…maybe I can just dump him somewhere._ It came to Hartman that he hadn't heard Jimmy make any noise for almost a minute. He swiveled in his seat. _Goddamn, the kid's run off!_ He flung open the car door and ran around to the back of the car. The ground gave mute evidence that the kid had been sick, but _now_ where the hell was he? Hartman peered into the darkness. No sense yelling; he knew the boy wouldn't voluntarily come back. He threw the cigarette down and viciously scuffed it with his shoe. It was gonna be hard to see anything with so little moonlight and no flashlight. He set off to try to find Jimmy.

~~~~~

John and Helen Martin, themselves quite distressed still tried to comfort the Spencers, offering them the hospitality of their home for respite. It wasn't working. Though grateful, Jake and Jennifer had difficulty getting any sleep. Each member of both families was tense with worry and anxiety. Helen Martin made meals nobody could eat. The boys, Chris and Jess, were quiet and subdued, not interested in the board games Helen set out for them. Life and everything about it hung in a state of suspended animation. Life was _Waiting_. The mere ringing of the land line startled everyone.

Jake Spencer spent most of his time on the phone with local law officials. _They were doing all they could_ , he was assured. _He should wait and let them do their jobs. No, the FBI was not yet involved; it wasn't yet certain if Jimmy had been taken across state lines. Yes, the airports and bus terminals had been alerted._ Yada, yada, yada. As the hours crawled by, Jake's frustration grew. Jennifer was worrying him; she was practically catatonic. As a diabetic, this major upset wasn't good for her. She hadn't slept and refused to eat.

Jake motioned his friend John over for a private talk. Jake promised to keep the Martins updated; he thanked them sincerely for their help, but they needed to go home. John understood. The two men shook hands. Jake bundled his wife and son into the car and went back to the ranch. In familiar surroundings, Jennifer could rest more easily, and Jake…Jake had plans of his own.

Jake had never approved of the things his brother had done after he left the service. Mercenary, hired assassin…such things were abhorrent to Jake, but as desperate as he was now, he thought putting Eliot on Jimmy's trail might not be such a bad idea. Eliot was a retrieval specialist with a reputation for getting things done. The decision was made. Despite his aversion, Jake Spencer made the call. He breathed a little easier; if anybody could get his boy back, it was Eliot Spencer.

~~~~~

After landing in Tulsa, Eliot rented a car and made one stop at a local drugstore. He stored the package in his pocket. With Hardison steadily feeding information through his earbud, he struck out to the southeast in the general area of Greenleaf Park in order to work backward toward Tulsa, tracking Hartman. Again, Hardison's voice came through the earbud: _Eliot…the Multnomah Project issued Hartman a reloadable prepaid card. Fool doesn't know those things can be tracked. If he wanted to do something nefarious and had any brains he'd use cash. That card pinged at a motel and a gas station right outside a town called Wybark on the north side. FM830. You can start there. Looks like he's following the highway to Tulsa._

'Good, I don't have to go all the way south. I should be there in an hour.'

 _We closin' in on 'im, Eliot. I'm working on his car's GPS. If I can hack into_ _Asset Telematics - it's a web-based car tracking system on the newer cars - I might can -_

'Don't tell me _how_ , Hardison, just _do it!_ '

Eliot jammed his boot down on the accelerator.

~~~~~

'Good afternoon, sir, FBI,' Eliot said, flashing his fake badge at the night clerk. Wybark had turned out to be little more than this gas station. 'I'm an undercover officer searching for a known felon. He drives a dark blue Ford Taurus. Tall, medium build, light brown hair and eyes. He would have used a prepaid card at the window. Sir, have you seen anyone fitting this description?'

'Come to think of it, I believe so,' said the night clerk.

'How long ago, sir?'

'Gee, I'm not sure…an hour, maybe two…'

'Did he have a child with him? A little boy?'

'Looked to be about nine or ten, yes.'

'Which direction were they headed?'

'North is all I can tell you, detective…officer…uh, sir. The highway goes through Broken Arrow to Tulsa but there's plenty of cutoffs; they coulda taken any one of 'em. Afraid I can't help you much.'

Eliot smiled and shook the man's hand. 'You've been a great help - thank you for your assistance, sir.'

Eliot went back out to the car.

'Hardison - you got a lead on that Ford? I can't be that far behind him.'

_Workin' on it._

~~~~~

Hartman walked along the barbed wire fence searching for Jimmy. He had to have run behind the car, not in front of it or Hartman would have seen him. Not far from the car, he spotted a scrap of material waving in the wind, caught in one of the sharp-tipped barbs. Hartman examined it by the glow of his lighter. The scrap was from Jimmy's new shirt; smeared with blood. _I could follow the little bastard's blood trail if I had a light!_ No sense turning the car around to use the headlights; that might get him spotted by the cops. The only ambient light was the flickering of cars and trucks on the highway; it barely illuminated the fence. Hartman gingerly crawled beneath it, snagging his shirt. Muttering curses, Hartman walked inside the wire, looking for movement in the darkness.

About thirty yards to the right was a field of high grass that looked like wheat or hay. It didn't seem possible that Jimmy could have run that distance in the time it took Hartman to miss him…but if he had, maybe the stalks would be messed up where he went in. Hartman scanned the seemingly solid wall of chest-high grass. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a few bent stalks in the thick wall of wheat. He decided to go in, zigzagging through the grasses as far as he thought Jimmy might have run, growing angrier by the minute.

Hidden deep within the field, Jimmy heard his father approaching. Being smaller, he could make his way along the furrows near the roots of the stalks better than a careless grown man charging through the thick tops that hid the furrows from view. He listened intently. Hartman was to his right and about as far away as he could throw a baseball. Now he was bearing left, coming closer. Now right again. Jimmy saw what the man was doing and began creeping toward the man, going left when Hartman went right. Maybe he could hide in the area Hartman had already searched.

Jimmy crept forward, hoping his strategy to remain concealed would work.

~~~~~

Waiting for Hardison to come through with a way to track Hartman's car, Eliot scanned every license plate on every dark car he saw. Luckily, traffic was light. At highway intersections he took the exits and cruised through the parking lots of motels, gas stations and eateries - then back up on the freeway until the next one. Broken Arrow was ten miles away. From there to Tulsa he had only half an hour to track down Jimmy. Time was running out.

A rainstorm was coming in from the southeast. Glowing lightning in the distance illuminated the highway periodically; during one of those strikes Eliot thought he saw a dark-colored car parked at an odd angle on the feeder past the exit lane. It was worth a look. He veered onto the exit lane and pulled up behind the car. The license plate checked out.

'Hardison, you hear me?'

_Yeah. Eliot, it's gonna take some time on that GPS…_

'Never mind. I think I've found him. Stand by.'

_I'm right here…_

Eliot slid his leather gloves on, exited the car and looked around. He peered inside the Taurus. Nothing. Circling the car he found the first trace of the little boy he had been tracking. Jimmy…he hoped…had been carsick. But where was he now? Had Hartman abandoned the car to get another ride? Eliot's heart sank. Then he heard it. The faint, but distinctively unmistakable sound of child's cry; the swishing sound of wheat ready to harvest. Eliot vaulted the fence and ran toward the sounds, parting the thick wheat like the bow of a ship.

Near the center of the large field, the incoming, steady flashes of lightning now outlined the silhouette of a man shaking something. So absorbed was the man in what he was doing that only in the last split second did he hear the sound of wheat being crumpled beneath running boots. He had no time to react. With a guttural roar, Eliot leapt the last few feet and slammed into Hartman, knocking him to the ground amid a bed of crushed wheat. Hartman gasped for air as Eliot roughly hauled him to his knees. He grabbed the man's hair and thrust his face upward. It was the face that had long been seared into Eliot's memory. Two years ago he had taken down this same man in a grocery store. Here he was back again like a never ending nightmare. Hatred welled within him and Eliot's past rose up; all the murderous deeds he had done for Damien Moreau; for an instant Eliot Spencer became, once again, that which he had tried to leave behind.

There was no hesitation. Hartman had regained his breath and now struggled mightily but Eliot, striking like a snake, applied the choke hold he knew so well and with one powerful surge of strength he twisted, snapping Hartman's neck as if it had been a dead twig. He released the now inert body and kicked it aside.

Eliot swiftly turned to check Jimmy, who was lying nearby. His pulse was a slightly fast and his breathing a little ragged. Eliot flashed a small penlight in his eyes. The child seemed stable. Eliot placed the penlight in his mouth to illuminate what he now intended to do. While Jimmy was unconscious he extracted the package from his pocket; with one of the swabs he gently wiped it inside Jimmy's cheek. He sealed the swab in its container. Returning to Hartman's body, he repeated the process with the second swab, pulling the jaw down and roughly mopping the inside of the cheek. He placed the containers in his pocket. The wind was picking up; he had to get Jimmy to shelter.

Eliot lifted the child and began the long walk back to the car. Jimmy came to in his arms. Frightened, he struggled until he saw who held him. His Batman had come at last! Those lights in the sky must have been the signal! Batman had seen it and had come when Jimmy needed him! Jimmy gripped Eliot with all the strength he had. Eliot clutched him tighter.

'Gonna get you home, son. Hang on, we're gonna get you home. Hardison!' he yelled through the earbud.

_Eliot! You got 'im?_

'I got him. Couldn't have done without ya, Hardison!'

_Hey, what about Hart-_

'Can't hear ya, Hardison! Storm comin' in!'

Eliot extracted his earbud and slipped it into his pocket. A short time later Jimmy, wrapped in Eliot's jacket, lay in the reclined passenger seat in a car driven by his own personal Batman, speeding for home…and safety.

Eliot deliberated as he drove. Hartman's death in a field along a highway would look like a random killing; given his record, it would appear he'd met his end at the hands of the wrong people. Hardison could take care of any paper trail he had left. Despite being granted a new trial, he was still a felon, one who had traveled, not only outside the county in which he was supposed to remain until his trial, but outside the state. He would have been automatically remanded to custody on that issue alone. Fuck the _Multnomah Innocence Project._ That organization was about to be cast into the spotlight; investigated; audited; have their criteria examined and their activities monitored.

Eliot welcomed that particular job.

Jimmy stirred. 'Uncle Eliot?'

'Hey, Champ, how do you feel?'

'OK, I guess. What happened? Where did that man go?'

'Don't you worry about him, son. They'll catch him.'

'How did you know to come after me?'

'Well, Jimmy…your friend Hardison works magic. I mean, seriously, the man oughta be a magician. On stage. Pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Or a hat out of a rabbit… Which is it?' Eliot joked, his expressive face making Jimmy laugh.

'He can do some awesome stuff!'

Eliot smiled to himself. As irritating as Hardison was, yes, he could do some awesome stuff. He turned to look at Jimmy. 'Hey - I bet you're hungry. What say we get a burger before we head home?'

~~~~~

Eliot didn't call Jake. If he had, the family might have leaked information he didn't want made available to the authorities. He knew they were trying but in all fairness they were looking for hundreds of kids. Jimmy was a priority only to those who loved him. Best to circumvent law enforcement at all costs. To this end, he cruised past the ranch to case it. There were no police vehicles anywhere.

_Good._

Eliot brought the reclining seat up and laid a gentle hand on Jimmy's shoulder to wake him. 'Jimmy, you're home, son. Ready to surprise your parents?'

'Sure am, sir,' the child replied sleepily. 'I didn't think I'd ever be home again.'

Eliot turned into the driveway, through the gate, and parked in the shadows behind the house. He lifted Jimmy, still wrapped in his jacket, from the car and walked to the rear patio. There he gently placed the boy in a lawn chair by the back door. Eliot knocked loudly. Grinning, he put a finger to his lips for Jimmy's benefit and stepped back into the shadows.

Jake hurried to the back door, turned on the back porch light and was startled by the sight of his son looking back at him and waving. Jake burst through the door and took his son in his arms.

'Jimmy…oh my God, where have you been?' He broke down, sobbing. Jennifer and Jess came running. The overjoyed family grouped around the boy, hugging, crying, kissing him.

Eliot stepped from the shadows. Startled, Jake disentangled himself from the family and approached his brother.

'My God, Eliot, I knew you could do it. How can I…how did you…'

'Never mind. He's here. He's stable but he needs stitches in his arm and he needs to be checked out. He's been through a rough time. Get him to a hospital. Listen to me: do _not_ call the authorities, either of you. Jenn can take him inside now. I have to talk to you for a minute.'

'Can I at least call the Martins, Eliot?' asked Jennifer.

'You can tell them he's home, no more than that.'

'All right.' Jennifer and Jess, both overjoyed, took a shaky Jimmy into the kitchen for first aid. Outside, Eliot and Jake were deep in conversation.

'What's this about, Eliot?'

'I need to ask a favor.'

'God, Eliot, anything.'

'You're an honest man, Jake, and I respect that; I know you like playing it straight down the line but I need one lie from you. Just one lie. Can you do that?'

'Lie? To who? The cops? Look, Eliot, I called you because I knew you'd do what was necessary to get him back and frankly, I didn't care what it was or how you did it. But, now, asking _me_ to do something illegal…'

'It's not like that. It's no concern of yours _how_ I got Jimmy back, and you'll never find out, either. Just be grateful he's back. And know nothing like this will happen again - ever.'

'Eliot…what are you…just what did you _do_??'

'Never mind. Now you _said_ you'd do anything. Tell one lie and your family gets back to normal, pretty damn quick. Or…involve me and fuck it all up. It's your decision.'

Jake sighed. 'All right…all right. What do I say? What lie do I tell?'

'Only that you found Jimmy on your doorstep.'

'Huh?'

'Well, you _did_ , didn't you? So where's the lie? Just don't elaborate.'

Jake nearly cracked a smile. Then strain set in and his shoulders shook. 'Oh God, Eliot…I shouldn't have let him go…'

Eliot's face softened. 'Aw, hell, man…you can't keep 'em in a glass cage. There's no way you could have seen all this coming. Not the Martins' fault, either. You be sure to tell 'em that. _They need to hear it_.'

Eliot took his brother by the arm and propelled him back toward the house. 'Remember what I said. And get that boy to the doctor. Call me and let me know how he is.'

Jake stepped inside. Before he closed the screen door, he turned to thank Eliot, but his brother had vanished.

~~~~~

PORTLAND, OREGON

Back in Portland, Eliot sent the package in his pocket to the local medical laboratory under the guise of Dr. Wes Abernathy. Six weeks later the results came back.

Eliot brought a steaming cup of coffee to the table and sat down to call his brother.

'Hi, Jake. Have the cops closed the case?'

'Eliot! Great to hear from you, boy. Yep, except they're still lookin' for the kidnapper, sayin' what a frickin' miracle it was that Jimmy was returned.'

Eliot stifled a grin. 'Jimmy still ok?'

'Aw hell, yes, he's better'n ok. Last time you called we were worried about his balance; he had a mild concussion that kind of knocked him for a loop, but that's cleared up. He's back in school, doing fine. We found a really good therapist for him. He goes twice a week and we all go together Fridays. Doc says he's coming along really well. Factoring in his age, maybe with some medication, she thinks he'll overcome the trauma he's suffered.'

'That's good news. Hey - I got more good news.'

'What's that?'

'I did a DNA test on both Hartman and Jimmy. Just got the results back. There was absolutely _no genetic link_ between that man and your son.'

'Are you serious? How in hell did you manage that…or should I ask?'

'Aw, hell, you can get one of those kits at any Walgreens and, well…anyway…it's done. I had a hunch, that's all. That might explain how his mother, Hannah, ended up dead. Now, as to his real father, there's no way to tell, so it's anybody's guess as to who he was. Could have been that brain-damaged veteran for all we know.'

'You don't think somebody _else_ will come jumpin' out of the woodwork after us? What if Hartman--'

Eliot spoke firmly into the phone. 'Nobody's coming after Jimmy ever again, Jake. It's _done_. You gotta trust me. _You're_ his father, Jake. Just raise the boy right… Don't let him turn out like me.'

'Hell, Eliot…ain't that much wrong with you that I can see.'

Eliot's throat worked; he couldn't speak for a minute.

'Eliot, listen,' Jake continued. 'Jimmy's askin' about you, how about spend a week with us Fourth of July weekend?'

'It's on my calendar. Thanks, man.'

'Take care.'

'You too.'

Eliot put his phone down on the table and reached for his coffee cup. The hot brew sliding down his throat relaxed him; he sat back, reflecting on what had gone down. He wasn't gonna start second-guessing himself for taking Hartman out; he was completely at peace with what he had done. It wasn't like before. Once upon a time he had sat across from an interrogator on a job the year before Nate and Sophie quit. He remembered the exchange like it was yesterday:

_'You ever count them?' the interrogator had asked._

_Eliot answered the question with a question. 'Counted what?'_

_'You know. The people you've killed.'_

_The interrogator paused. Eliot just stared at him. 'Give me a ballpark. It's gotta be a big number, right?'_

_Eliot looked at him scornfully. 'You think asking me about my past is gonna open up old wounds? Maybe put me off balance a little? Make me easier to break?'_

_The interrogator casually leaned back in his chair. 'I'm just trying to get to know you better. Why does that question make you so nervous? Is that what all this is for you? Are you trying to punish yourself for the things you've done?'_

_Eliot didn't grace that with an answer._

_'I think that's it,' said the interrogator smugly. 'I think the reason why you won't give me your word and walk out that door is 'cause you think you deserve to be here.'_

_Eliot's face lost all expression and in his voice there was an eerie calm. 'What do you want to know? Names? Dates? Locations? You want to know what food was on their breath? Their eyes…what color their eyes were? You want to know the last words they spoke? You want to know which ones deserved it…or, better yet, the ones that didn't? Do you want to know which ones begged? Do you know why I remember these things?'_

_'I don't know,' the interrogator had said, looking a little green around the gills. Eliot had sent chills down the man's spine with just a few sentences._

_'You don't know? 'Cause I can't forget. So there's nothing you can do, no punishment you can hand out that's worse than what I live with every day. So, to answer your question, no. No, I haven't counted. I don't need to.'_

Eliot had killed for his country…in self-defense…for Moreau…and for his team. The incident in that warehouse had weighed on him; so much so that he asked Nate not to tell the team what he'd done. Some of those faces would haunt his dreams for as long as he lived. Not so this one. His conscience was clear.

~~~~~

PORTLAND, OREGON

Amy Palavi sat at a table in the empty dining room, awaiting her fate. Her freshly laundered and folded black apron lay on the table in front of her. She looked around the dining room which had become so familiar to her and she wanted to cry. This was a good place to be and these were good people, and she had royally screwed up. It didn't matter that she was only trying to help. She had almost cost a young boy his happiness, not to mention his life, although so far, no one at the brew pub had actually accused her of that.

Her stomach tied itself in knots whenever she thought about what she had done. She remembered the time she was almost abducted, from this very place, in fact, and the fear and helplessness she had felt then. She had caused someone else, a _child_ , to feel that way. That, in her mind, was inexcusable. How she could ever face any member of the team again? It was hard enough to look herself in the mirror. Maybe it was better if they fired her. But this was such a good job, and Hardison was a good boss, and she needed the money for art school.

Amy put her hands over her face and sobbed.

Meanwhile, Eliot, Hardison and Parker were deep in discussion about Amy in Nate's old office, seated around the small conference table. Parker and Hardison debated; Eliot adamantly wanted her gone. She had taken it upon herself, without communicating with or consulting the team, to do a job on her own. _No intel, no plan, just diving headfirst into the lake without checking the depth_ is how Eliot succinctly put it.

Parker disagreed; feeling somewhat responsible for what happened that night, and thought a simple warning to Amy would suffice. 'Talk to her. Sternly. Put one of those letters in her file,' said Parker. 'She won't do it again. Ever.'

'Can you _guarantee_ that, Parker?!' Eliot demanded to know. 'Can you put that in _writing?!_ '

Parker had never seen Eliot so worked up. She understood how he felt, but given the good outcome, she saw no reason to come down so hard on Amy. The poor girl was absolutely distraught after learning what had happened to Eliot's nephew because of her.

Hardison, fond of Amy himself and rather soft-hearted, was very reluctant to fire her and almost as reluctant to call her on the carpet. He threw his big hands up in the air in frustration. They weren't getting anywhere with this.

Eliot was goaded. 'Hell, if you can't bring yourself to do it, Hardison, I can damn sure -'

 _'Wait!'_ Parker broke in. 'Look…Eliot…haven't we all made mistakes?'

Fuming, Eliot looked at her. 'Sure we have, but none of us _put a little kid in danger_!'

'Well, what about Luka?' asked Parker.

'It's _not the same_ , Parker!'

Parker shrugged. 'What she did is serious, I know,' she said quietly. 'But I just want us to do the right thing here. Remember how kind she was to Dr. Chicken Parm? How she worked overtime whenever we asked? Ran her legs off for me when I tore my ACL? Even when I got bossy.'

'She was _doing her job_ , Parker!'

'C'mon, Eliot…think about it. Haven't _all_ of us gotten a second chance? Nate gave us that chance … to make _us_ better.'

Eliot was goaded. 'It's different things. You can't compare the two. You don't want to fire her, fine. Hardison can't bring himself to fire her…fine. _I_ can and _I_ say she goes.' He emphasized his stance with his index finger jabbing the air.

'Eliot, you _can't_ …' Parker began.

' _Watch_ me!' snarled the Hitter. He slammed the door behind him and stalked down to the dining room.

Amy jumped slightly as the door opened, distracting her from her thoughts. She shrank down inside herself as Eliot strode purposefully into the room.

 _Oh no! They must have decided to fire me, or he wouldn't have come in alone_ , she thought.

Eliot didn't sit down. He just stared at her, sizing her up. She was sure he could sense her fear; the man didn't miss much. His voice was hard when he finally spoke. 'Just answer one question for me.'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

_'Why?'_

She couldn't quite keep her voice from quivering when she spoke.

'That man…he seemed so…so sincere. So worried about his nephew. He said the boy was the only family he had left. It seemed like such a straightforward thing to do and I thought I could handle it. I-I know better now.'

'Why didn't you tell Parker?'

'I-I don't know. I should have handed it off to her. It's just…the feeling I got when I was helping her before…when all of you were in Japan. It felt like I was doing something important, something meaningful, for the first time in my life.' She bowed her head and stared at her folded hands. 'Instead, I messed everything up.' She raised her head and looked him in the eye.

Eliot waited for her to speak, indifferent to her tears.

Amy found her voice; it no longer quavered. 'Eliot…I realize now it isn't about the feeling. It's about the _people_. I violated your trust, and I violated Hardison's and Parker's. I'm completely responsible for your nephew being kidnapped and I almost caused his death. I'll never be able to deal with that because I know what that's like. And you'll never know how very sorry I am for what I've done.'

She got up and voluntarily moved to the door. She wouldn't force him to say the actual words, to make it final. She paused at the door and turned back, wanting him to understand.

'You all are fine people, and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. You've taught me so much about food and good service…and teamwork. I hope you'll pass along to Parker and Hardison how much I appreciate the opportunity to have worked here, and I'm grateful for everything you all have done for me.'

She opened the door and was halfway through. Before she could close it behind her, Eliot said softly, 'Amy?'

She turned back and looked at him.

'Don't forget your apron,' he continued, pointing to the neatly folded garment on the table. 'You don't want to be out of uniform when you report to your next shift.'

Looking at him incredulously, she smiled. Although he smiled back his eyes seemed to be saying, _This is your second chance. Don't blow it._

Amy picked up the apron. 'Thank you, Eliot.'

~~~~~

After she had left, Eliot walked into the back room, where Parker and Hardison waited for him. He took a seat at the table.

'How did it go?' asked Parker, dreading the answer.

Eliot said nothing. Hardison looked at him closely. 'You couldn't do it, could you?'

Eliot scowled at him. 'I could have…but I didn't. Amy laid it on the line. She didn't whine and she didn't bullshit. A lot of people would have, just to stay out of trouble.'

He noticed the two younger members of the team exchanging secret smiles, and he growled in frustration.

'Decided to give her another chance, huh, Eliot?' smirked Hardison.

'Yes, Hardison, I did! And lemme tell you somethin' else, son, you better slap tighter security on those computers or I'll do it for you. With a _baseball bat_!'

Eliot got up so forcefully he knocked his chair over. He stalked out of the room.

Hardison stole a glance at Parker. Despite the happy conclusion, Amy coming so close to getting fired and Eliot's aggressive behavior had upset her. Hardison playfully punched her shoulder in an effort to cheer her up.

'Aw, don't worry, Baby Girl. He be awright after he's punched a coupla people…he be all like…'

Hardison stood up and imitated their Hitter, shadowboxing, slicing the air with uppercuts and left hooks, emphasizing each blow with corny sound effects. Parker giggled as Hardison, encouraged by her reaction, began jumping around in the manner of the incredible Hulk. He raised his fists in the air and, with his best _Avenger_ impression, shouted 'Eliot _SMASH!_ '

 _'Eliot SMASH!'_ echoed Parker gleefully.

From down the hall came a strident, graveled voice. _'I heard that!!'_  

 

THE END

 

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: If Parker can hear the team in Japan from Portland (Ref: The Broken Wing Job) Eliot can receive Hardison thru his earbud in a plane.)

~~~

I would not have been able to write this last sequel (requested by Kaneswolf; a big shoutout of thanks to her) without the help and support of my friend and beta, Gilbert H. Karr. Thanks to my daughter Rofire9 for her input and graphics. This has been a labor of love for the last year and a half in honor of all abused children worldwide.

A special thank you to Christian Kane, for bringing Eliot Spencer to life in such a dynamic way. Your portrayal of him inspired me.

As for Amy Palavi, it's conceivable that this particular plot device may not be believable.  However, I've seen much worse on television shows where writers get paid.  The basic story premise is sound.  :) 

_No more sequels will be forthcoming_. We're going to let Jimmy grow up safely in a loving family of Spencers with an awesome Hitter Uncle. He'll be a happy, hard-working, Oklahoma rancher with a good wife and five kids.


End file.
